Freedom
by Hauuu
Summary: Freedom has been devastated by a joint operation between Duty and the Military, but a few ragged survivors are determined to rebuild their faction and return balance to the Zone. Direct sequel to The Way Home.
1. Chapter 1

Note – this story takes place after the events of THE ZONE, the first twenty or so chapters of which are available at , and the whole 100 chapters are at pseudozone dot blogspot dot com

FREEDOM is a direct continuation of THE ZONE.

There is also ATROPHY, an all-original (not fanfiction) story revolving around several surviving cast members from THE ZONE and FREEDOM – it's available at pseudoatrophy dot blogspot dot com.

I can be reached through comments on any of the blogs, or at thepseudozone at gmail dot com. By all means comment, email, whatever – this stuff is all feedback-driven. Thanks for reading.

-Wish

Freedom

By Wish

Chapter 1

The pilots were dutifully playing Little Richard, but the cabin wasn't bathed in red light. The music almost drowned out the thudding of the chopper's rotors. I wasn't sure if that was in good taste or not, but I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to relax; I didn't know when I'd get another chance.

Someone prodded my shoulder, and I opened one eye. There were two other men in the rear of the chopper with me – two men, and one large, cloth-wrapped object that I couldn't identify. These guys had been talking for the entire ride, but I hadn't been able to hear them over the music. They were both white, and both wore identical gear, so I assumed they were together. One was brown-haired and brown-eyed. I would forget what he looked like the minute I turned away. The other had overly bright red hair, and a build like he was made of chopsticks. He wore a pair of goggles, which I had a feeling were prescription. He was the one poking me.

"Yeah?"

"Where you from?"

I considered that. "Hong Kong," I replied. It wasn't a lie. I could tell from his looks and his voice that he was American. West coast, I decided.

"You got a name?"

"Yeah," I said. I was being a jerk, but at least I was doing it for a reason – I didn't want anything to do with these guys. Why? Look at them. This one had arms like noodles. It couldn't have been more than two or three years ago he was president of the chess club. He was probably wearing a pocket protector. I'm not even thirty, but this guy was hardly more than a kid. Or maybe he just came off as young. He and his friend were probably around my age – but they didn't seem like it. Maybe my expectations were unreasonable.

Anyway, I'd concluded that these men were idiots an hour ago, just by looking at them. Forget their air of childish excitement – look at their gear. The thin guy had a high-capacity Benelli. Sensible enough, but his companion was bringing an AR chambered in .50 Beowulf. It was actually a pretty solid choice of weapon for where we were going, I thought – but they weren't thinking ahead. If they lived long enough to use up whatever ammunition they'd brought, they'd be left with a thirty-five hundred dollar paperweight. On top of that, the ammo was big and heavy, so they couldn't possibly be carrying very much.

The same went for their Belgian Five-seveN pistols, which they both wore on their tactical vests. Good guns, but not thinking ahead.

The guns aren't the point – the point is that their choice of weaponry hinted at a staggering shallowness of thought. If bullets are going to fly, you don't want guys like that at your back. No, sir – I was not making friends with these guys.

They'd obviously done their research before coming, but they hadn't made good decisions with the information. These guys weren't going to live long, and I didn't want to be there when reality decided to put them in their place.

"My name's Slayer," the geeky one said, pointing to himself. Yeah, I thought. I'll bet it is. He jerked his thumb at his friend. "He's Dixon."

At least they were dressed right. Gray fatigues and tac vests over Kevlar. Not fancy, but at least there wasn't anything blatantly stupid about it. "Hey, man – I really dig this." He tapped my shoulder. I was wearing motorcycle armor custom-lined with Dragonskin. He couldn't see the Dragonskin, but the armor did look pretty cool.

"Thanks." I closed my eyes. "You guys have had a lot of baggage." I couldn't help myself; they did.

"Gear for the blog."

"The what?"

"The blog. The world's first Zone blog."

He seemed to sense the effect those words had on me, and went back to his seat. I hoped the two of them had taken the time to learn a little Russian, or at least brought along a phrasebook or something. I understood that English was widely spoken in the Zone, but a little local lingo might help these morons come off less like the dumb Americans they were. At least Dixon looked mildly fit.

'Long Tall Sally' started to play, and I grimaced. We were probably getting close. All the meditation technique in the world won't keep away some trepidation at this point. I opened my eyes and pulled on my gloves. Dixon looked up when the song came on.

"Oh, hell yeah," he said.

I just shook my head and checked my slim pack. Everything was in order. I checked the buckles on my armor, my bandolier, pouches, holster. I checked my boots, and made sure my knife was tight to my shoulder.

We were descending. I grabbed the handle over my seat and held on as the Americans scrambled not to tumble around the cabin. The landing was surprisingly gentle – and I was surprised. I'd figured they wouldn't even land, just get us a meter off the ground and tell us to get out. I wasn't complaining. The rotors didn't stop; the pilots didn't intend to stay long. I unstrapped myself, and the copilot wrenched open the side door. I'd expected some light, but didn't get any.

What I did get was a shattering crash of thunder, and a rush of icy water. It was storming out there like a hurricane, and the wind was blowing it all right into the chopper. Shielding my eyes, I grabbed my pack and my AK-105 and jumped out. The air crackled, and the rain pounded on the chassis of the chopper like bullets, clearly audible even over the thunder and the rotors.

Chain lightning broke the sky, making my ears buzz. We were in a field of tall grass, which whipped around in the storm. The sky overhead was dark, but to the east it was even darker.

The Americans were getting down behind me. I pulled on my pack and attached the lead from my carbine to my armor, stepping away from the chopper. The pilots had the rear hatch open now, and were wheeling the cloth-wrapped object down the ramp.

Something wasn't right. I didn't know if it was fear or paranoia, or my actual instincts – but I wasn't comfortable. You're not supposed to be comfortable in the Zone, but this went beyond that. I watched the Americans struggle with their baggage for a moment, then turned to scan the grass around us, holding up an arm against the rain and wind. I didn't see anything, but that wasn't surprising in these conditions.

The pilot and copilot seemed to be in a pretty big hurry, but that didn't surprise me either. They got the package off the chopper and closed the hatch. Without a word, they were getting back in. I took a few more steps back, and the Americans struggled to move out of the way as the chopper rose into the air.

I watched it go for several long seconds, oblivious to the rain. A streak of lightning crackled not far away, and the chopper banked smoothly, fading into the dark. Its running lights started to grow faint. If I was ever getting out of here, I'd have to make new arrangements, or do it myself. But I'd known that coming in. I pulled up my hood and turned around, only to find myself at gunpoint.

The man was almost invisible. He had on a long, hooded coat in a very authentic camouflage pattern. I could see frayed, fingerless gloves that had once been white, and dark, calloused hands. The rest of him was a blur in the rain, though he was barely ten feet away – but I could see the shotgun just fine.

My carbine hung from my vest; my hand wasn't anywhere near it. My Glock 34 was in my drop leg, held there securely by a nylon button snap. But even if I'd had a gun in hand, it wouldn't have been any good. He had me dead to rights. It was only a pistol-grip 12 gauge, but even in the dark the muzzle looked about a mile wide. My armor would stop buckshot, but he wasn't aiming at my chest.

Weeks ago, when I'd been planning this out, I'd considered a ballistic facemask. I could have had one made. But in the end, I decided I valued situational awareness over being bulletproof. After all, bullets weren't the only things I had to be afraid of. Maybe that hadn't been such a hot decision.

I shifted my stance, moving my eyes to check the Americans. Another guy had them covered. His coat was black, but that made him even harder to see than his partner. Was there another man in the grass? I didn't want to move too much or too suddenly. What would set these guys off, I wasn't sure, but I didn't need to find out. To their credit, the Americans hadn't stupidly gone for their weapons and gotten us all killed. No, they were paralyzed. Their inner monologues probably read something like: Oh, this place really is dangerous. Oh dear.

If these people had been approaching as we were getting off the chopper, I would have seen them, even in this mess. They'd popped up just a little too suddenly, and I decided that meant they'd been here from the start, lying in the grass.

And they hadn't fired yet. The one in front of me moved forward. They hadn't just gunned us down. Why? Because they knew who I was. There was no other explanation. The pilots must have sold me out.

These guys knew who I was, but they didn't know me. I wouldn't be taken.

My hand moved toward my drop leg. One flick and that snap would be undone. If I drew and evaded at the same time, the first shot would miss. Could I beat the second? Yes. Yes I could. The Americans were on their own; they'd known the risks when they decided to come here. I doubt they'd have lasted long anyway.

This had to be some kind of record. Two minutes in the Zone and already people were going to die.

Then there was shooting.


	2. Chapter 2

Freedom

Chapter 2

There was shooting, but I wasn't the one doing it. It wasn't one shot or two, but a pair of fully automatic bursts. They weren't made of the sharp reports of a rifle, but instead big, booming shots that you could feel in your bones. That said, the two bursts that cut down the men threatening us were actually pretty brief – but that didn't make them any less deafening.

I did the smart thing and threw myself down, but the shooting was over almost before I landed. The noise of the storm was crowding in even before the guy in front of me hit the ground.

I had never, as such, seen someone gunned down – but I think I took it well. I managed to get my Glock out and to twist around, but the need for a gun had passed. The Americans were still on their feet, and I didn't think they'd moved at all. Nice self-preservation instincts, guys.

I jammed the Glock back into its holster and got up, checking to be sure everything was in order. A man – no, stalker – strolled out of the gloom, tucking an enormous, vaguely box-like pistol into a crossdraw holster. He wasn't ignoring us, per say – well, he was ignoring the Americans.

"You come off the chopper?" he shouted over the rain. He wasn't even looking at me.

"Yeah," I called back, trying to sound less shaken than I was.

"Set you up, huh?" He nudged the body with one boot, then knelt down. This guy spoke great English. He picked up the shotgun and looked it over. He held it up and gave it a little shake, then made a face and tossed it aside. He started to pat the man down.

"Yeah."

"That'll happen." He came up with a lighter. He opened it and flicked it on, holding a hand over the flame. I watched him flick it shut and tuck it into a pocket before getting to his feet. "Rookies, huh?"

I opened my mouth to contradict him, but it was the truth, no matter how you looked at it.

"I guess so."

He gave me a funny look. "Where you headed?"

"Not sure yet."

"Pledged?"

"What?" He meant to Duty. "Oh. No."

"Good," he grunted, heading for the cloth-wrapped thing, which stood forgotten not far away. He cut the ties, letting the cloth fall away. Inside was a motorcycle – or a dirt bike, I guess, like you'd see in motocross. It was matte black. The stalker put his hand on it, smiling grimly. Only then did I notice he had a helmet on a strap over his back. I watched him walk a circle around the bike, then kneel down to do things I couldn't see. I turned to check on the Americans. They were pulling themselves together – and by that I mean they were standing over the corpse of the man who'd been covering them, gaping at it.

The rain poured, and I wondered what I was doing with my life. Before I could get to actually thinking about what to do next, the stalker was rising from behind the bike. He pointed past me. "There's a road a couple of hundred meters that way. If you follow it east, there's a bridge. On the far side of the bridge, cut into the woods and there's a farmstead."

"What's there?"

"Best case, a job. Worst, some good advice and a place to sleep. Just try not to look hostile. Or edible." He turned and looked at the Americans. "Take them with you or they won't last the night."

And that was it. No introductions, nothing. He just got on the bike, fired it up, and tore off through the grass. I watched him go for a moment, then shifted my sling and headed for the Americans. They were gathered around their baggage now, mourning it. They'd dropped it all when the second gunman threatened them, and I suppose that hadn't done their delicate equipment any good. They were shell-shocked, not from the shooting, but from the dollar value attached to their loss. Not to mention this probably meant they couldn't even do what they'd come for.

This was not a very promising start – but I guess it was better for me than it was for them. I hadn't actually lost anything in that little encounter. This was exactly what I had hoped to avoid. Unfortunately, I have a conscience. I thought about what the stalker had said.

Between us, the Americans and I had quite a bit of brand-new, high-quality equipment – which is in high demand here in the Zone. The stalker could have just as easily taken us down as well; we would have been easy targets, frozen the way we were. He hadn't. To me that suggested he was a generally decent person. If he had a reason to lie, or to send us somewhere dangerous, I didn't know what it was. Besides, it wasn't like I had a better idea. This wasn't where I'd meant to be let off.

So I gathered up the Americans, and we struck out east. They came along easily. They say there are leaders and followers; I don't know if I'm a leader, but the Americans were followers, no question. They were dumb, but not so dumb that they didn't realize standing around in the open in this weather wasn't the way to go. As long as they followed my lead, I figured I could deal. If they did anything stupid or got uppity, I'd cut them loose no matter what my conscience said. Call me a bad person, but I wasn't ready to die for these two morons.

I didn't want to take out my PDA in this weather, but we were far enough from the center that an ordinary compass worked just as well for navigation. I wasn't exactly sure where we were, but from the stalker's mention of what had to be a roughly north-south road and a bridge, I thought maybe we were in the prairies northwest of Morozov. Since that stalker had been carrying a helmet, I had to assume that 450 from the chopper was for him. It seemed like the pilots had been free with the coordinates of our landing to everyone but us.

We went east with the storm, but couldn't keep up. It moved on, darkening the sky ahead. The rain let up a little, but it was still wet and miserable. At least we could see, but only for the moment. Night was setting in. On the bright side, being this far out west meant that we were probably safer in general than if we'd been dropped deeper in, like I'd originally intended.

The air seemed to thicken as we walked. Back where we'd landed, it had seemed normal, like anywhere else in the world – but the farther east we went, the more things changed. The rain was still falling, but I wasn't noticing it anymore. Ahead, muted pink and white flashes lit up the clouds over the darkness surrounding Chernobyl. It was miles and miles away, but still felt somehow immediate.

I made a conscience effort to pull my wits about me. It was too easy to get lost in the wonder of the Zone. The sights weren't enough; it also played with your feelings, like the place itself was getting in and tinkering with my brain chemistry.

I watched the darkness around us carefully. I wasn't worried; I had plenty of light. One mounted on my armor, another on my AK. Two compact hand lights. I reached to my shoulder and flicked the light on.

I'd read all about Zone Theory – the arguments and suppositions of people outside the Zone regarding how things work here. A lot of them said lights at night were a bad idea because they broadcast your position. These were the kind of people who think a little, talk a lot, and never actually do anything. They had a point, but they were also missing the point. Okay – don't turn on your light. Nobody will see you. But will that make you feel better when you walk into an anomaly? You can use night vision, but that limits your hearing and your field of view. If there was an answer that beat only traveling in the daytime, I hoped I lived long enough to find out what it was.

My light showed me dark grass streaked with rainwater, waving in strong wind. The rain had slackened off a little, and my PDA was allegedly waterproof – so I took it out and got it running. The first thing I did was try to connect to the notoriously unreliable Stalker Network. It was either down or out of range; each seemed equally likely. But my GPS and sat map were working fine. I checked our location. My instincts had been good. I angled north a little, and we almost immediately reached the road. From there it would only be a short walk to the bridge.

The map I had loaded was up to date – which is to say, it had been modified after the last reported emission. If there'd been another one during the day, while I'd been traveling, then it would be obsolete – but I couldn't update it until I could connect to the network.

I checked the open frequency, but got nothing but static. There weren't many stalkers out this far west; no jobs, no artifacts. Safer, sure, but nothing to do. Except ambush rookie stalkers being brought in by air, I guess.

The Americans were talking again – I wasn't sure if that was good or not. "Wow, real bandits, man!" I did myself a favor and tuned them out. Something moved – or I thought it did – way out in the grass on our right. I turned and leaned into my AK to take aim – but the light on my shoulder caused blinding glare on my red-dot. I lowered the rifle and switched it off, blinking stars from my eyes. I guess it was a good thing I found out about that little bug now, instead of in combat. I took aim a second time, squinting at the dark. If there'd been anything out there, it was gone now.

The Americans had stopped when my light went out, and wisely kept silent. Now they were chattering again. I dealt with it. We'd barely crossed the bridge when faint light became visible in the trees. I paused, and the Americans held up as well, quieting down. I got out my binoculars and took a look. It was hard to make out, but it looked like firelight. It had to be the farmstead our benefactor had directed us to.

My AK was hanging on my armor's harness, and I took my hand away from it, motioning for the Americans to sling their weapons. We headed in, doing our best not to look threatening. Roughly sixty seconds later, we were at gunpoint. Again.


	3. Chapter 3

Freedom

Chapter 3

It takes more self-control than you think to keep your hand off your weapon in the Zone, but that's what I did, and I made sure the Americans did likewise. The rain wasn't falling on us anymore, just dripping its way down through the tangled branches overhead.

My light fell on pale, chalky bricks. The cracked remnants of an ancient well stood not far away, a length of cord and a bucket nearby. There was a collapsed shed, and a pair of wide, one-story buildings. The firelight came through the cracked windows of the more intact of the two. I decided it was better to call out from here than to startle the occupants by barging in.

There was something on the air – something more than the rain. I listened intently.

"Is that Zeppelin?" Dixon hissed.

Slayer nodded. "Stairway," he whispered back. "What?" he asked, seeing me raise my arms.

Face set, I turned slowly. The Americans weren't listening, but I was. I hadn't missed the telltale clicks behind us. I'll confess, what I saw took me aback. I'd come to the Zone expecting the unexpected, but that hadn't prepared me for this. It's not like there's a formal rule that women can't be stalkers, but it's just not done. This one hadn't gotten the memo.

I heard Slayer swallow. The Americans had their hands up now. The light on my shoulder showed our assailant clearly. My first impulse was to ogle, but I'm supposed to be smarter than that, so I focused. She had a pair of Makarovs on us. One for me, one for both Americans. It was like these people could somehow sense how worthless those two were. The guns kept the Americans in line; their kevlar would stop a slug from a Makarov, but at this distance she could aim wherever she liked, and they knew it. What the Americans probably didn't notice was the way the hammers of the pistols were quivering. This woman had the triggers of both guns pulled all the way to the break. One twitch and our stay in the Zone became permanent.

I didn't let myself tense. This was not a stable, balanced person. My light gave me a good view of her eyes. The guns didn't waver, but the hammers never stopped moving. I'm not afraid to take my chances, but it would have been folly in this scenario. I opened my mouth to speak, but realized I didn't know the name of the stalker who had referred us here. "The guy with the bike sent us," I said finally, in awkward Russian.

A flicker of recognition. She seemed to relax slightly, and lowered the guns. That wasn't as comforting as it sounds – they were still pointed at us.

"Dude, what did you just say?"

The woman's eyes flicked to Slayer, then back to me. She motioned vaguely at her face with one of the Makarovs. She was holding the guns, so I reluctantly – and slowly – reached up to pull down my black facemask. Her eyebrow twitched at the sight of me – you don't see Asians every day in the Zone, I guess.

"Rookies?" she said finally, in English. I couldn't place her accent, but it was thick and heavy.

"Like you can't tell." I switched to English.

She tiredly wiped rainwater from her eyes, then stowed one pistol in the back of her waistband, letting the other hang in her hand. This wasn't someone who let her guard down easily. I wasn't surprised; if I were a woman in the Zone, I'd be wary too. "Yes," she sighed, motioning.

We followed her into the building, which felt comfortingly warm, despite having no insulation to speak of, plenty of drafts, and about a dozen leaks. A PDA sat on a board beside the merry little fire. Now Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Free Bird' was playing. The woman sat down on the far side of the fire, gun still in hand. She pressed something on the screen of the PDA with the muzzle, and the music stopped. She waved at us to sit, but shifted to keep the fire between herself and us when we did so.

Finally I felt like I could look at her without getting a bullet in the face. There are women, and then there are women. This one had seen better days. She'd had a lip busted recently, and her face showed several brutal-looking bruises. More than that, she had truly terrible dark circles under both eyes, and of course, no makeup. That said, she was probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Her blonde hair was unruly, but clean. She had the brightest blue eyes in the world, made brighter by the firelight, and the vague insanity lurking behind them. I had a feeling we weren't coming to her on her best day.

Her physique was indeterminate; she wore a set of brown fatigues that were obviously meant for a man twice her size. Even with the cuffs rolled up and the tunic belted at the waist, she looked like a child wrapped in a quilt. A child with two guns, and a knife fixed to her shoulder in a decidedly businesslike fashion. She looked younger than I was, but I didn't think she really was.

I looked at her hands; her fingers were all wrapped in bandages. An AK-47, or maybe a Chinese or Romanian knockoff, lay disassembled beside her. She must have been in the middle of cleaning it when she detected us. How she'd done that, I still wasn't sure – we hadn't been approaching in clear view of the windows, and I didn't see how she could have heard us over the rain – but it didn't seem like the sort of thing to ask about.

"Wow, lady – what happened to you?"

I raised my eyebrow, giving Slayer a sidelong glance. I wondered if he could even spell the word tact.

The woman gazed across the fire at us, giving him a flat look that cut off any questions that might have followed. "When did you get in?" Her English sounded like she used it a lot, but she hadn't learned it from Americans. Or even Englishmen. She strung words together naturally, without hesitation or stumbling – but her pronunciation was all over the place. I wasn't complaining; there was something very endearing about the accent.

"Thirty or forty minutes ago. Our pilots gave our location to some bandits – your friend with the bike intervened on our behalf," I told her.

She nodded. "He does that. Helps rookies," she added.

"Has he got a name? I owe him one." I didn't feel like talking, but better me than the Americans.

"People call him the Biker."

"Suits him," I murmured. That was right – stalkers don't go by their real names. I'd known that, of course, but I'd had other things on my mind. Somebody was going to want to know what to call me, someday. If I lived long enough, I'd have to think of something to tell them.

"Where will you go?"

The question wasn't just addressed to me, and I had to think for a moment. She meant in the morning, once the weather cleared up. I opened my mouth, but Slayer cut me off.

"Duty," he said firmly.

That got a peculiar look from the blonde. Wry amusement? I couldn't be sure. She was a tough read, made more so by the state of her face and the ruddy firelight. I wasn't surprised by the answer, though. In fact, it was what I'd assumed. A lot of people are seduced by Duty's claims to organization and formality. They think that they have a better chance in the Zone if they're affiliated with an institution. They want someone looking out for them. It must be true – to a degree. And of course these Americans would want someone watching their backs while they wrote their little blog, or whatever. I wondered if Duty would tolerate something like that. Had they already pledged? Was there some kind of Duty propaganda arrangement in place here? No, if there was something official like that, Duty would have brought these two into the Zone themselves, and made sure they weren't accosted on the way.

Someone didn't have all the facts. Between Duty and the Americans, I was going to guess it was the Americans. Maybe they thought Duty would welcome them with open arms. Maybe they would; I didn't know different.

"You?"

I blinked. "No plans," I told her. That was mostly true.

"So we can stay here tonight?"

Her eyes flicked back to Slayer, and there was a flash of hostility that the American didn't appear to notice. "Of course."

I wasn't sure what to make of this. Did I need to sleep with one eye open if I shared a roof with this woman? No – why would the Biker send me to a hostile? Why not kill us himself? It would have been easy.

Because then he'd have had to transport our equipment, his loot, by himself. By sending us here alive, he got free shipping on his goods. So that was their game. No, wait a minute – the blonde had us dead to rights. And she'd invited us in after hearing that the Biker had sent us; if she had predatory intentions, she'd have gunned us down at her first opportunity. I had no doubt she was up to the job. Stalkers are nothing if not practical; if they aren't, they don't last long. And like I said, I was pretty sure this woman was right in the middle of a genuine psychotic episode. The Biker'd had his chance to kill me, and so had this woman – neither one had taken it. If that didn't prove their trustworthiness, I didn't know what could.

"Fancy armor." The woman's eyes were back on me. I couldn't help but notice she didn't look too well equipped herself. The AK-47 was flecked with rust. She had no armor at all. In fact, her face looked sunken, as though she wasn't eating.

"I thought it'd be hard for anything to bite through it," I replied, discreetly scanning the interior of the building. There were a couple of bedrolls, and two packs, both of which looked pretty full. In fact, I could clearly see that there were rations in one of them. So she wasn't starving – but she was obviously on hard times.

Wait – the Biker had told me I might find a job here. I wasn't looking for one, but he'd definitely said that – so if this woman was in a position to offer people work, she couldn't be too badly off, right?

It was just like they said – things are strange in the Zone.

"Can it stop a bullet?"

"What?"

"A bullet." She was still staring at me. I'd gotten mentally hung up on how cute her pronunciation of 'bullet' was. I'd never heard such a winsomely sultry voice in my life.

"I don't know. I haven't tried."

"You'll get your chance."


	4. Chapter 4

Freedom

Chapter 4

I wasn't sure where this conversation was going, so it's probably just as well that it never got the chance. Rain or no rain, you can't help but hear the motor of a dirt bike from a ways off. That got everybody's attention, and it was about the first thing that had happened so far that did not appear to alarm the blonde. In fact, there might even have been subtle signs of relief. We all turned to see the Biker enter the building, dripping with rainwater and carrying a large plastic case in either hand.

He gave me and the Americans about half a glance, which I assumed was his idea of a greeting. I hadn't gotten a very good look at him out there in the dark, but now I could see him clearly. He wore armor that looked rather improvised, but I understood that wasn't uncommon here. That absolutely terrifying fully-automatic pistol was still in his holster, and I admit I was curious about it. I'd made a point of researching firearms thoroughly before coming to the Zone, but this was a new one on me.

His armor's various components boasted several camouflage patterns, but it all ran together into a muddy mess that I was sure would be all but invisible if it needed to be.

The Biker had a square jaw and shaggy hair. He was taller than I was, probably six one or two, and though he had only a medium build, he'd added enough muscle to it that combined with the armor, he was pretty imposing figure. Yes, they didn't come any manlier than this guy. Of course he couldn't say anything to us; it would kill his strong, silent aesthetic.

He'd stepped right out of Gears of War – but wait, I wasn't going to think about that, because I'd been in the Zone less than two hours and I was already having a crisis, because not only had I already begun to miss leather couches and video games, but now that I'd seen real violence in person, I found myself wondering about the philosophical questions surrounding the ramifications of simulated murder. If I made it back to the real world, would I never be able to enjoy a shooting game again? Or would I still enjoy them, but feel like a bad person because of it? No, that line of thought could wait. Maybe for a couple of years.

There was irony in that inner monologue – not the philosophy, the fact that unbeknownst to me at the time, pretty soon I was going to meet a man who made the Biker look like a lightweight, and the steroid-slurping behemoths from Gears of War look like schoolgirls. But I digress.

"Problems?" the blonde said.

He shook his head and set the cases down, but his eyes shifted to me. "Those bandits were a little far afield." He spoke like an American, but he was not American – I was ready to swear that on the graves of my ancestors. I didn't know where he was from, but his mastery of the language was impressive. "I wonder why they'd come out this far for three rookies," he added.

Of course, I knew exactly why they would, but I certainly wasn't going to tell. "I don't know," I shrugged. "Maybe they were already out here."

Maybe he was suspicious, maybe not. He had a face of stone. He was even harder to read than the battered blonde on the other side of the fire. Speaking of whom, I had to wonder how she'd gotten that way. I looked the Biker over again. A whole bunch of scenarios rolled through my mind, none of which I particularly liked. I didn't want to be here. But, it wasn't like the blonde couldn't defend herself; I mean – she had an AK-47. And if this Biker fellow had some kind of psychological hold on her, well – that was unfortunate, but none of my business. The Zone is one of the few places on earth where you can smack around your girlfriend, and nobody can justifiably say anything. The whole point is that you do what you want. Nobody had a gun to this woman's head, and if they did, she had a gun too. The ball was in her court.

The Biker stripped off some of his outer armor and sat down beside the fire. To my surprise, he sat on our side rather than beside the blonde, who was opening the first of the two cases. Inside was a bizarre array of items: stacked boxes of cartridges in a variety of calibers, a Walther MPL, a pistol I didn't recognize, rations, medical supplies, tightly-bundled stacks of banknotes, and I kid you not, a couple of neatly folded, jarringly fancy brassieres, the tremendous size of which took me aback.

It wasn't as strange as it sounded. Of course there were things that wouldn't be readily available to a woman in the Zone, and if the blonde was as well endowed as what I saw suggested, then proper support was no laughing matter.

For a moment, the blonde didn't do anything. She looked overcome, as though the sight of her belongings – and they were definitely hers – were such a vast relief that she just couldn't come to grips with it. Well, she was on hard times. It probably was a relief. Though going from the amount of money I could see, her situation had just improved markedly. Good for her.

Wordlessly, she extracted a couple of bundles from the case and rose, leaving the main room and disappearing into one of the smaller ones. Intending to change, no doubt.

I stared into the fire. Had all my research been for nothing? I'd been led to expect a lot of things from the Zone, but so far I wasn't getting them. This couldn't be the norm. I glanced over at the Biker, who had broken down that monstrous pistol to clean it. The Americans were in hushed conversation; I actively did not want to hear what they were saying.

In time the blonde emerged, looking quite different. She'd cleaned up a little, and changed into a set of black fatigues that actually fit her. Her hair was tied back, and she looked more collected than she had before. Sometimes it's the little things that count, I guess. Military fatigues aren't designed to show off a woman's body, but that didn't matter. She could walk the runway in a cardboard box.

It was distracting. I took out a calorie bar and started to think about what I was going to do. The Biker got to his feet, moving across the room to confer with the woman out of earshot. I couldn't help but notice that they didn't stand very close together. The logical assumption was that these two were some kind of item, but that didn't appear to be the case. I had the feeling I was misunderstanding something. It was time to put a leash on my imagination.

The conference at the far end of the room seemed to end, and the Biker returned, touching me on the shoulder and jerking his chin toward the door. I raised an eyebrow, but obligingly got up to follow him.

He led me outside, where we stopped beneath the metal awning just over the door. The tapping of the rain on the metal above was loud, and it ran off in wild cascades. The Biker was only a couple inches taller than I was, but I still had to look up at him, a little.

"I never thanked you for helping us."

He shook his head. "When there are bandits around, bandits are your enemy, and anyone who isn't a bandit is your friend. That's the bottom line."

I nodded. "Thanks anyway."

"Are you looking for work?"

"You got something?"

"Yeah. And it'd be better if you were looking for work, so I wouldn't have to intimidate you into it because you owe me one."

I let out a snort of laughter and halted the knife I was easing out of my sleeve. At first I hadn't been sure why he'd invited me out of the room, but now I was starting to understand. I made my knife disappear with a little sleight of hand – hopefully discreetly enough that the Biker never knew it was there – and relaxed. "Fair enough."

On the inside I was still sweating. Of course I had to take jobs. I had to eat. Had to make a living. This was an adjustment. The Biker was talking.

"The Americans want to see Duty?"

I nodded. "That's what they said."

"I want you to take them to Rostov and drop them off. I don't think they'd make it on their own. Then there's a little job we need done."

"Rostov," I repeated, taking out my PDA and calling up my map. "Here?"

"Yes. It's a long road to get there, but getting back won't be as bad."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to pick someone up. With the Americans, you have to take a safe route. With this guy, you should be able to come straight back. The return trip should be less than a day. Then we're square. And we'll pay you. What do you say?"

What could I say? I owed him. "It doesn't sound like a big deal."

"It's not, as long as you travel smart. Here." He pointed at my PDA. "You want to head south to the cliffs and follow them. Or you can climb up and go over the bluffs – it's safer up there, but then you have to climb up and down. I wouldn't trust those two to do it. Follow the cliff until it runs out, then you can cut east and use the roads, as long as you keep your eyes open."

"Wouldn't it be faster to cross this open country?"

"More dangerous – that's the way back."

"Who am I picking up?"

"A friend. He'll know how to handle himself, so you can risk it."

"I see."

Well, I was pretty convinced I could trust this guy – but I was still waiting for the catch. Something about this didn't quite align.

But nature was taking its course; I had to go with it. The job sounded like something I could, in theory, handle. That beat the alternative. The only thing I didn't like about it was the fact that even if it went well, it was going to lead me back to this strange man and woman.


	5. Chapter 5

Freedom

Chapter 5

That first night in the Zone wasn't very restful. I wasn't exactly afraid the Biker or the Blonde would knife me in my sleep, but I still didn't understand them, and it's hard to trust what you don't understand. It wasn't as bad as I expected – the Zone tires you out, and sleep comes easy when you're exhausted. We were out of the rain, and the fire was warm. The blonde disappeared to sleep in another room. Maybe she came from somewhere cold.

In the Zone, the day starts as soon as it's light enough to see. Nobody sleeps in, not even stupid Americans. By the time I woke, the Biker and his bike were gone, and the blonde didn't seem to be around. Just as well; they both made me uncomfortable in their own ways. Apparently nobody had thought to tell the Americans that their fate had been decided, so I had to explain to them what was happening. They accepted the plan without protest; they'd been planning to strike out for Rostov anyway.

It occurred to me that it was awfully conscientious of the Biker and the blonde to make arrangements for the Americans at their own expense – though I suppose they weren't really paying me to move them. They were paying me for the job I was going to do after. We hadn't discussed terms, but something told me these two would pay fairly. I didn't know what that meant in the Zone, what the going rate for being a gopher was – but whatever it was, I had to take it, because I'd come into the Zone without a single dollar, euro, or ruble to my name.

The weather had cleared up nicely, though the sky was still ominously gray. Far to the east it was totally black. I guess that made it pretty easy to orient yourself; you always knew where Chernobyl NPP was.

While the Americans got ready to depart, I headed outside and briefly checked my gear. Today I might actually have to use it. One night in the Zone survived and counting. Hey – some guys don't even last that long. I was off to a good start. To my surprise, my PDA connected immediately to the network. I checked to see if there was an update available for my map, but there wasn't. That meant it had been at least 48 hours since the last emission. I tuned in to the open frequency and put on my earpiece. There was nothing to pick up out here, but there might be something on the way in.

Slayer emerged into the light, still looking bleary.

"Sharpen up," I snapped. He looked sheepish, and gamely tried to shake himself awake.

I checked our route. It was pretty straightforward. The roads got twisty and convoluted down around the compounds north of Rostov, but navigation wouldn't be hard. Even without the PDA, once I was down there I'd always know that Chernobyl NPP was directly north, so all I'd have to do would be to walk away from the darkness on the horizon. Eventually I'd hit Rostov.

Dixon finally came out, and we got going. I checked off the list of people I had to watch out for. Duty was still hurting from everything that had happened during the Military's spectacularly failed Operation Railgun. The Military had pulled back to the cordons, and it was believed that it would be quite a while before they ventured into the Zone again. Duty patrols were thin, but they'd be on edge.

Bandits would be out in force. Duty was weakened, and Freedom was out of the picture entirely. Organized groups like the Alliance and Duty would be relying heavily on mercs, and if my research was to be believed, mercs were notorious for their opportunism. I'd have to watch out for them. Predatory loners and ignorant rookies were on my threat list, too. Worst of all, I feared the people who came to the Zone simply because it was the only place on Earth where they could indulge their fantasies without any formal law to come down on them. All kinds of characters fell into this category, from cultists to people shooting snuff films. I could live a happy life without knowing anything about – much less encountering – those people.

It was these sorts of thoughts that occupied my mind as we walked southeast through the prairies. As if all the people out to get me weren't enough, the Zone was swarming with mutants of all kinds, most of which seemed to have people pretty high on their list of favorite foods.

"Want to load that weapon?"

"Huh?" Dixon looked down at the Beowulf rifle under his arm. "Oh." I watched him take out a magazine and slap it in. At least he appeared to know more or less what he was doing. I'd had him pegged as the less likely of the two Americans to win a Darwin award, but this wasn't very reassuring.

A series of quiet clicks came through my earpiece, and I stopped, throwing up a fist. The Americans kept walking. "Stop!" They did. I groaned in disgust. Where were their Geiger counters? "Back up."

"What is it?"

I looked down at the ground. The soil was pretty mushy after the night's rain. I put my weight down, moving my boot to push some mud aside. Nothing. I squinted at the ground ahead. There – a few pieces of twisted metal protruded among the reeds. "There's something down there." I took out my PDA and checked it. "The levels aren't dangerous."

"Radiation, huh?" Slayer grimaced.

"You're on ice, right?" I said, still looking at my readings.

"What? What are you talking about?"

I looked up at them for several seconds. The first thing you did when preparing to go to the Zone – after getting your head checked – was to have a couple reputable companies freeze a sperm sample. Everybody knows that.

"Nothing," I said finally. It was better if these two didn't reproduce. "Shoutouts to doing favors for the gene pool," I said.

They looked at me like I was insane. My PDA was telling me that the radiation levels here, while detectable, were not even close to being an issue. The sharp, twisted metal sticking up out of the ground was markedly more dangerous.

"Watch your step," I told them before starting forward. We didn't get far.

"Oh, man." Slayer paused beside me, tapping his fingers on the stock of his Benelli. We all stared at the carcass. There are a lot of mutants in the Zone. Few of them have been around long enough, and been well enough documented that rookies like me can know about them before coming in. This had once been a dog, but it wasn't the blind variety. I didn't know what had gone wrong with it, but it struck me as hard to believe that there was only radiation at work here. This thing wrote the proverbial book on hideous.

"I'd hit it," Dixon said. "With a nuke from orbit."

Slayer snorted. "It's the only way to be sure."

"Party on, Slayer."

"Party on, Dixon."

"Excellent."

"Excellent."

They high-fived. I resisted the urge to shoot them both. I had no love for Duty, but I felt bad for them. I wouldn't wish these guys on my worst enemies. There was a flash as Slayer took a picture of the carcass with his PDA. He turned it over and started to type with both thumbs.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing our first blog post."

Wordlessly, I turned on my heel and started walking. Maybe I'd get lucky and he'd trip and skewer himself on some rebar. It was getting brighter, and I let myself relax a little. The air still prickled, but I was starting to get used to it. The sounds of the Zone, earlier intimidating, had actually begun to soothe me. The whistling breeze, and a distant, ethereal moan from the direction of the Chernobyl NPP.

A couple more kilometers and we'd reach the bluffs. Following them would be easy. The ground we were walking on had gone from mushy to borderline-swamp. I reminded the Americans to be careful. Even through the fabric of my mask, I could tell the stagnant water underfoot was truly foul; like hell was I going to be pulling people out of it.

Some ground up ahead looked pretty suspect, so I angled around it and leapt atop the half-sunken chassis of an ancient car, intending to cross. My Geiger counter immediately heated up, and I quickly jumped down and moved away. Of course – I'd read about that. Metal objects in the open weren't good. There wasn't much danger, but even so – no sense looking for trouble. I pulled down my mask long enough to swallow a precautionary anti-rad and a quick drink of water.

"Hey, man." Slayer drew alongside me as I pulled my mask back into place. "What's the with the shinobi thing?" He gestured at my mask.

"I come from a long line of ninjas," I lied.

He backed off and we walked on. Or we tried, but a bullet zinged off the hood of the car.


	6. Chapter 6

Freedom

Chapter 6

I threw myself behind the car, and the Americans followed suit. That was good, because I hadn't spared a thought for them. I was glad they had at least a little self-preservation instinct.

"Oh God," Slayer said, clutching his Benelli to his chest. "What was that?"

"Sniper." Dixon said, looking like he was trying not to hyperventilate. Sniper? Hardly. A sniper would have hit us. But I wasn't doing much better. My heart was going a mile a minute. The shot was still echoing off the bluffs. I had to pull it together.

"What do we do?"

"Shut up."

He did. I thought. Well, it wasn't like I hadn't done my research, but this situation sounds a lot more manageable on paper. I listened. No follow-up shots. There had been no delay between the impact and the report, which meant the shooter was pretty close. Close enough that they shouldn't have missed. Did they hit the car deliberately? Why?

For the first time since the shot, the blood pounding in my ears quieted enough for me to notice my Geiger counter clicking furiously – and I understood. This setup was planned. The shooter pinned his victim down behind the highly irradiated car, hoping the standoff would do the job. That way there wouldn't be any inconvenient bullet holes in the loot.

A clever plot. It made the most of one man. But it also meant we were only up against one man. And he was close. Now that I was thinking, I remembered the shot. There were some low hills up ahead – more like drifts of mud and junk, actually. He was up there somewhere. Why'd he pick a place so close? Why not get up on the bluffs, out of reach? Maybe his weapon didn't have the range.

Dixon was jabbing me with his elbow. "Wake up!"

I gave him an unfriendly look. "I wasn't asleep."

"You looked like it."

"I was thinking."

"What do we do?"

"The only thing we can." I leaned over and peered out. I had the shooter's location down to a stretch of maybe a dozen yards along the drift. As I looked now, I narrowed it down further. There are a number of ways to handle snipers, but very few of them were available to us. Time was a factor. My Geiger counter clicked madly; we couldn't stay here long. That was that. It was decided.

"There's only one," I said.

"How do you know?"

I wasn't in the mood to explain. "Trust me."

"Where is he?"

"At about eleven o'clock. All three of us are going to get up and fire on him. You'll see a wheelbarrow sticking up, make that area your target." I eyed the Beowulf. Just the sound of that thing ought to get the guy to put his head down.

"And?"

"And I'm the fastest, so I'll run left. Let me get halfway to the drift, then you two go right. Don't cross our fire."

"Left? There is no left."

"I'll go up and over."

The Americans exchanged glances. "We can't cover you."

"You don't have to, you just have to suppress him."

"Wait a minute," Slayer cut in. "What if we get on the channel? We can see if there are any stalkers around here that can help."

"He'll be listening. And there's no time." I tapped the metal of the car. "We're sitting on a hotspot. We have to move."

The American turned slightly green at that. He nodded, hefting his Benelli. "I can empty this thing in about half a second. He's only got ten in a mag," he jerked his chin at Dixon. He meant they'd be empty almost as soon as they started shooting; the suppression wouldn't last.

"You've got a Five Seven. Spam it." I got my AK into my hands and checked the chamber, then got into a crouch. "On three." Having the Americans at my back wasn't very reassuring, but they could at least shoot in the vague direction of the enemy, right? They had to be able to do that much. I took a couple of breaths. "Three."

I sprinted into the open, putting the AK to my shoulder and pulling the trigger as fast as I could. It was only a semi-automatic carbine, but there was nothing wrong with my finger. Just my own shooting would have been enough to burst eardrums, but the blast of the shotgun and the deep booming of the Beowulf drowned it out completely.

Even as I ran forward, firing every step of the way, I could see the debris stuck in the mud atop the drift being torn apart by the Americans. What they lacked in competence they made up for in firepower. The shotgun stopped, and a frenzied popping began, no doubt the sound of a sidearm.

My 105 went empty and I let go of it, letting the harness catch it and swing it around my back. I leapt atop the wreckage, jumping nimbly to a protruding girder, then some rubble. In a heartbeat I was at the top. Both Americans were still firing, and not as accurately as I liked. A round whizzed past me. I'd intended to take a more reasoned approach to confronting our assailant, but under heavy fire from my own people, there was no time.

I dropped, sliding down the opposite side and jerking my pistol out of its holster. It happened fast; there was movement, and I pointed and fired three times as fast as I could. The distant shots of the Americans were one thing; the up-close ones from my Glock 34 were quite another. The world blurred and echoed, and I slid to a stop, gun still outstretched in both hands.

A body sagged and slid down a few feet, coming to rest just below me, eyes closed, blood bubbling from the holes in his chest. I stared down at the man I'd just killed. His rifle, a Mosin Nagant, lay at the bottom of the drift, the bolt locked open. A rusted relic, missing its sights, and completely empty.

I looked at the man, who had been dead before my third bullet struck home. Gray-skinned and gray-bearded. His sunken face looked about sixty years old, but that probably wasn't the case. It was just hard living and malnutrition. No armor to speak of. His clothes were barely more than tatters. His threadbare gloves didn't match. One of his boots was held together with tape, and there was a crude splint on his right ankle. That was why he'd pinned us down from the drift instead of the bluffs; he couldn't climb.

There were clumsy sounds from the other side of the drift as the Americans clambered up. They crested the top with their weapons at the ready, looking if not professional, at least not like total amateurs.

I just sat there on the slope, gazing without seeing much. It wasn't like I'd come to the Zone thinking I'd be able to skate by without combat. I'd just thought maybe I could work my way up to it. Maybe I could shoot a mutant dog or something first. At the very least, I thought my victims would be faceless, masked and armored professionals, like you see in the pictures that end up on the internet. Stalkers in anonymous, dehumanizing gas masks. Guys with heavy weapons and questionable motives.

Not starving men with antique guns and no bullets. I didn't have any money, but I could have given him food. I even could have given him a weapon. Surely just approaching us wouldn't have been more of a gamble than what he'd just tried to pull on us.

"He played his hand." I looked up at Dixon. He'd pieced together what happened. That didn't make it any easier to take.

The Glock still hung from my hand. I shifted to put it back in its holster. It felt like a lot of effort. I'd have rather just dropped it in the mud and left it there, but some part of my brain was still functioning.

My ears still rang from the shooting. One of the Americans was saying something to me, but I couldn't be bothered to listen. I looked at my wristwatch. It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning.

So much for the five precepts, not that I'd ever really given them any thought before today. Now, in about five seconds I'd trampled all over them. There was a distant rumble of thunder, and the air crackled. My skin prickled. The hair on my arms stood up. And just like that, the charge left the air, and there was nothing to feel but the wind and a faint sense of vertigo.

The blood from the body was soaking the wet soil around it. Did this guy have a name? How had he come to be out here on the frontier, starving and alone, hoping to kill newcomers for their belongings? What could have possibly led him to this place? I gazed down at his lined face and wide, staring eyes. Was this how things were here?


	7. Chapter 7

Freedom

Chapter 7

The sun was high overhead, and the bluffs were far behind us. Green hills rolled away in every direction, all bathed in warm sunlight. The Zone was putting on its best face for us, but it would have to do a lot better to change my mood after what had happened.

This was the deadliest place on earth; I needed to be clear and focused. Instead I was moody and distracted. If I couldn't find a way to get things straight, I was going to get into trouble.

"Do we need to be worried about that?" Slayer said, looking over his shoulder. Occasionally we could hear dogs barking back there.

"We're downwind," I said darkly.

"What does that mean?" Slayer asked.

"It means they can't smell us," Dixon told him.

"Hey, man – you know your stuff. You got a name?"

Maybe he'd forgotten that I'd dodged that question less than a day ago. I didn't answer him. This was no good. It wasn't working.

I told the Americans to hold up, and left them in the shade of a nearby grove and went to the top of a sunny knoll. I sat down and evened out my breathing, ignoring their eyes on my back.

I was surprised at how quickly serenity and insight came to me, considering the circumstances. But I'd felt different ever since setting foot in the Zone. This place wasn't like the outside world. It was easy for anyone to understand why people came here. Fortune, adventure. The prospect of seeing things no one else ever would. What outsiders – myself included – had difficulty understanding, was why they stayed. Now I was starting to see.

Dixon touched my shoulder, and I looked up. You know your meditation is a success when you aren't angry that somebody's interrupted it.

"Look."

I did. "What is that?"

Dixon offered me his binoculars. I had my own, but I took his anyway and got to my feet. The vague grayness he'd indicated came into sharp focus. I'd initially thought it must be some kind of anomaly. It wasn't. Well, it was – but not that kind. I turned to Dixon, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged. I handed his binoculars back.

There was a murder – no, a swarm – of crows ahead. They circled high above, looking like nothing I'd ever seen before. We've all seen crows circle, but not in numbers like this.

I rubbed my chin through the fabric of my mask. "Whatever they're interested in, it's right in our path."

"Check it out?"

"Yeah." I picked up my carbine and motioned to Slayer, who joined us. As we got closer the distant cawing became audible. It must have been deafening, because we were still the better part of a kilometer away. I checked my PDA, finding that there was a shallow valley ahead. I told the Americans to slow down. We mounted the hill cautiously, peering over the crest with some trepidation.

The valley below contained a lot of stagnant water and tall grass. Old wooden planks were laid across the water, forming makeshift bridges between mounds of earth. At first it wasn't clear what we were supposed to see. There was no battlefield below, no bountiful food source for the hundreds of crows overhead. Nothing to inspire the frenzied cawing.

"There." Dixon pointed. I took out my own binoculars and followed his gaze.

Far below, a lone figure was making its way through the valley. The man must have been very tall, but also very thin. He wore a long, faded gray coat. It was tattered and frayed, as though it had seen a lot of action. He didn't have a weapon that I could see – well, no rifle or shotgun at any rate. That struck me as odd; we weren't on the frontier anymore. This was the Zone. He probably had a pistol under the coat somewhere, but a pistol isn't enough. That's something everybody agrees on. I watched, fascinated.

He stepped onto one of the rotting bridges, and I could see his figure reflected in the water below as he crossed.

But he wasn't the only thing to see. Not far ahead of him, something blue and ethereal was dancing in the air. An artifact or anomaly, I couldn't be sure which. I'd never actually seen either, except in pictures.

"The hell is that?" Slayer murmured.

"I don't know." Dixon sounded like I felt. I said nothing. The man in the coat was making for the anomaly. I didn't know if it was him, or his prize, but the scene made my blood run cold. The crows weren't letting up.

I returned my gaze to the stalker below in time to notice the air behind him wavering. He reached out almost absently, and I saw he was holding what must have been a small knife.

The air resolved itself into a vaguely human form, a brown and twisted thing that I recognized from descriptions on the internet. The thing crumpled to the ground, clutching at its throat. It rolled into the water, which turned immediately red.

Several more of the creatures appeared from thin air, all around the stalker. He ignored them as they moved past him, splashing into the shallows to feed on the dying one. I shuddered, but couldn't take my eyes off the scene.

"My God," Dixon said.

"I know, right?" Slayer replied.

"No, look – look at the crows."

I did. It took a moment for me to see what Dixon meant, but I did. They were following him – the man with the coat, like an enormous black, cacophonous halo.

He had reached the artifact. I held my breath. The creatures in the water continued to feed, oblivious to what was going on above. The tall stalker seemed to think for just a moment, then reached out. I winced. It just didn't seem like the type of thing you want to touch with your bare hand. I zoomed in with my binoculars. It looked like he had on a pair of fingerless gloves, but that wasn't my idea of protection.

His fingers closed around the object, and he lifted it for closer inspection. It trailed a few wisps of something blue and unidentifiable. The stalker's grip tightened on the thing. His fist began to shake.

The shockwave flew through the valley, sweeping up the sides before anyone could react. It passed us with a crackle of supercharged air. As the blast echoed around the canyon, the crows fell silent. A haze of black bodies and feathers began to fall soundlessly to earth. I'd flinched, but now I struggled back into position and raised my binoculars again. The tall stalker had not moved. He opened his fingers, revealing an empty hand. He gave it a little shake, then was lost to sight as the rain of crows and feathers hid him.

The Americans were still recovering. I turned and slid down the hill, hauling Slayer to his feet and giving Dixon a sharp kick. "We have to go." They didn't ask questions. It seemed like the shockwave had affected them more than it had me. As long as they could run, it didn't matter. I was pretty sure that just before the smokescreen of feathers covered him, the tall stalker had turned and looked directly at us.

It didn't matter who we were, how prepared, what sort of weapons we had – if that stalker caught up with us, we were as good as dead. I don't think the Americans appreciated that. They think you can solve anything if you've got big enough guns. It was a good thing I was there.

They huffed and puffed along behind me. "This is the wrong way!" Slayer shouted.

"It's not," I called over my shoulder, then stopped and planted my feet, letting them pass me. "Keep going." I took up my AK and scanned the rolling hills behind us. No sign of him. I turned and started to run again. That stalker had shattered my inner serenity just as easily as he'd crushed that artifact with his bare hand. I was closer to panic now than I had been when threatened by the bandits, or when cornered behind that irradiated car. I like to think I have good instincts, and they were telling me this situation was orders of magnitude more dire.

There were no more crows in there air; they had all been struck down by the shockwave, so there was nothing to indicate where the thin stalker might be – if indeed he was coming after us.

I didn't have to look at my PDA to know this detour would cost us, but anything beat certain death. Travel smart, the Biker had said. Easier said than done.


	8. Chapter 8

Freedom

Chapter 8

It was evening before we were back on track. The sun sank lower in the sky, and our position hardly seemed to have changed. True, we were all tired after fleeing from the thin stalker – but he'd never appeared, and everyone was still in one piece. I had to count that as a win, provided he wasn't still back there somewhere, patiently tracking us. Don't ask me why my imagination was going to such lengths with that guy – there just something about him. Maybe the same thing that made carrion eaters flock to him.

The darkness made the road deadlier. We couldn't see dangerous anomalies until we were right on top of them, and everyone knows that the worst mutants are most active at night. The situation was far from ideal. We got there, but we were in trouble.

In front of us was a black ocean. We could see shapes standing up against the night sky, buildings and machinery. An industrial graveyard. Stone walls lay cracked and broken, giving way to dilapidated warehouses and train depots. This was the infamous Rail Yard, bane of all stalkers approaching Rostov from the north and west. Even outsiders like us knew about it.

I felt like we should have been able to see some kind of light from the Bar, but there was a lot of ground ahead of us. The structures were taller than expected. They would block much of the moonlight once we were in there. It would be as dark as the grave.

I went down on one knee and took out my PDA, telling the Americans to watch my back. I was still uneasy, even hours later. I called up my map. It was no use trying to circle around to the north; the road was too long and too dangerous – filled with hotspots of radiation, mutants, and uncharted anomalies. Cutting around south was out of the question, too – there was a well-known vein of irradiated material running perpendicular to the wall of the yard. Going around it would take hours, and going through it just wasn't done. Even so, anything had to be better than walking right into a deathtrap in the dead of night.

The Americans were played out. It had been a long, full day. Even I was tired. If we punched straight through, the road was short. It wasn't like nobody ever pulled this off – it's just that nobody liked it. I rose to my feet and put away my PDA.

"We're going straight through." I turned to the Americans. "I'm the only one with a light on. Stay close, and no noise."

We crept to the wall and ducked through a collapsed section, into the narrow gap between two corrugated walls. I switched on my AK's light and angled it at the ground. We only needed to be able to see one step ahead. If we could avoid anomalies and stay quiet, we'd get through this.

I was uncomfortable with even the crunching of our boots on gravel. I put up a hand to halt the Americans when we reached the end of the makeshift alleyway. Covering my light with my hand, I leaned out and looked in either direction. There wasn't much to see. Something clattered, but it was far off. It didn't come as a surprise to any of us that there were things moving around in this yard that we couldn't see.

After pointing to the side of a building across an open space, I switched off my light and moved out. The Americans did a good job keeping up. We followed the bricks to the corner, where I leaned out yet again. Ahead, I saw light flickering in a window. A fire? An anomaly? A distraction?

I touched Dixon's shoulder and signaled him. He raised his Beowulf and moved to the other side of the gravel pit, taking aim. I moved up, then sent Slayer ahead while I covered Dixon. If there was a sniper out there, we weren't going to make it any easier for him. No one shot at us.

We took a chance and entered a warehouse through a tear in the metal siding, making our way through stacks of moldy wooden crates filled with something that smelled vile. There was something alive in that warehouse, but we hurried through quickly enough that it never got a chance to make a move – though we could hear it in the shadows the whole time we were inside.

Once out, we were held up again behind a low stone wall. The road ahead was too open; there was no cover except for the stripped wooden remains of wire spools stacked on our left. Moving out with lights on would be a sharpshooter's buffet, and going in the dark was even less attractive. There were holes and gaps in the concrete everywhere; we'd be lucky to trip and make noise, but more likely someone would twist an ankle, and the odds of us reaching the Bar alive would plummet.

"This is it," I whispered. "From here we have to hurry." I took a device of my own design from a pocket on my armor.

"Is that a flare?"

"Are those firecrackers?"

I ignored both questions and slapped the flare against my thigh, sparking it to life. Squinting at the green glare, I rose and flung it as hard as I could to our right. It hissed away and landed on the pavement, the firecrackers beginning to pop rapidly. I put my hands back on my AK and took off, hearing the Americans just behind me. Maybe all these precautions were unnecessary.

We covered the distance, and I cut to the left to follow a brick wall to a raised concrete platform. I dropped down to the gravel below, making my way between a pair of rusting hulks that had once been box cars. A boiling green anomaly glowed beneath the one on our left, but it wasn't a threat. Some of my night vision was coming back, and I knew we had to have covered at least half the distance.

There was sudden glare on the metal of one of the train cars ahead, and I hissed at the Americans to stop, covering my own light. I thought fast, then dropped and rolled beneath the nearest train car. The Americans scrambled down after me.

Boots crunched on gravel. We held our breaths as more lights appeared. Three – no, four stalkers. They weren't saying anything. Their lights were on, but pointed down. I couldn't read their intentions from their movement alone. Maybe they were just passing through. I gave them the benefit of the doubt as they moved off. Dixon's sidearm was in his hand, and he eased it back into the holster on his chest. He looked at me questioningly, and I gave a small shake of my head. We had to wait until they were well and truly gone.

My firecrackers had burned out, and there was nothing to hear but a distracting rustling.

"Hold still," I bit out.

"I'm not moving."

"Me neither."

I was out from under the train car in about zero seconds, and Dixon was right there with me. Slayer screamed much more loudly than I liked, but in hindsight, I don't blame him. Dixon and I immediately dropped down and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him out. In the dark, his body was just a writhing mess of black shapes and red eyes. Dixon dove right in, trying to pull the twisted rats off him, but that wasn't going to work; they had him totally blanketed, and they were hungry, bringing to mind visions of underwater camera shots from Discovery channel specials dealing with Piranha.

I jerked down my mask and drove the heel of my boot into Dixon's sternum, not just kicking him free of Slayer, but throwing him back a ways. He gasped and tumbled to the ground. I took the flask from my belt and twisted off the lid. I didn't know which was louder – Slayer or the rats, now that they were in the open. One thing was sure: every stalker and mutant in the train yard was hearing this.

I drained about a quarter of the flask's contents, flicked open my lighter and breathed a spectacular fireball over the thrashing American at my feet.

The rats gave up a piercing scream, and flaming bodies fled from Slayer like sailors jumping ship. They streamed away, many still alight, disappearing beneath the train cars en masse.

Slayer was definitely showing some burned flesh, but it was thanks to me he had flesh left to burn. I barked at Dixon to get him up, pivoting with my AK at the ready. Slayer had accidentally discharged his Benelli during the confusion, and my ears were still ringing from the blast. I didn't know if the stalkers from a minute ago were hurrying back to capitalize on easy prey, or hurrying away to mind their own business.

Dixon had Slayer on his feet, and we fell back in what I will describe as relative disarray. I spat residual paraffin and pulled up my mask, keeping my finger on the trigger. I'd hit all my lights; stealth was out of the question now. If there was something between us and the Bar, we'd just have to shoot our way through.


	9. Chapter 9

Freedom

Chapter 9

It didn't take long to get from the disaster with the rats to the break in the wall that signified the transition from wild country to Duty's protection. Nothing happened on the way, which is for the best, because we were rattled enough that dealing with anything but the smallest threat might have been beyond us. That didn't thrill me, because if rats were all it took to put us in that place, who knew what would happen if we ran into something really serious.

Slayer had bites and burns, but he was in better condition than I'd feared – physically, at any rate. Neither he nor Dixon was truly prepared for the realities of the Zone, and getting chewed up by rats had begun to show that to him. Maybe he'd wise up and get out while he still could.

Apparently it wasn't unusual to hear gunfire and ruckus from the train yard, and neither was it out of the ordinary to see bedraggled stalkers stagger across the line, clearly on their last legs. I covered our backs until we were almost on top of Duty's perimeter. We hadn't seen the worst of the yard – not by a long shot – but we'd seen enough to know that when people tell you not to risk it at night, they mean it.

The Duty soldiers manning the little barricade seemed welcoming; they didn't shoot at us. We moved past the carcasses of dogs and mutants, half-lit by the glare from the mounted lights. I wanted to get here before nightfall, but I didn't need to see this in good light.

They waved us in, and I helped Dixon support Slayer into the welcoming glow of the Bar's lights. Slayer's wounds were superficial, but if it were me, I'd want some antibiotics on them right away. I trusted that Dixon could handle that much. This was it; I have a sentimental side, but it wasn't coming out that night. I stepped away from the two Americans, and Dixon looked up in surprise. He said something, but I was already walking away. I'd done my part, and I could live a long and happy life without ever crossing paths with them again.

I found Rostov quieter than expected. This was supposed to be the only really busy location in the Zone, and it was easily the most people I'd seen since coming here – but it was far from crowded. That was to be expected, I supposed – after all, the whole thing with the Military had devastated the stalker population. It wasn't that there were fewer stalkers at the Bar, there were just fewer stalkers, period. Tensions still ran high. Stalkers were cagier, more careful, and less sociable.

Someone was strumming a guitar, and there was plenty of noise from a nearby passage leading underground. I paused and looked down, curious.

"Don't stand there," a stalker on the landing began, and I quickly moved on. That must have been the actual bar – maybe I'd stop by there later. For the moment I wanted to have a look around. I needed to wind down after the stressful end to the day's trek. There wasn't much to see. The cement walls were pocked with what had to be bullet impacts, and among the scraggly grass poking up between broken walkways I could clearly see shell casings. There had been fighting here. Probably when the Military had stepped in; I'd heard it had been a major upset when they took the Bar by force to use it as a base camp.

Faded stains lingered on walls. The only custodians in the Zone are the carrion eaters, and they don't work very hard; they don't have to. There's no shortage of food for them. It was a thoroughly depressing place. The Bar held none of the wonder of the open Zone, but it did have the feeling of security that comes from being around other people. I stopped and listened to the guitar for a moment, then leaned around the corner to see a few stalkers sitting around a fire in a bare building that they shared with a pulsating anomaly.

Gunshots startled me. They were close, but heavily muffled. I turned to see the side of a large brick building. This had to be the Arena. I'd read about it. Well, that was the last place I wanted to check out. I'd seen enough death today.

So I turned back around and went into the building, feeling a light pull from the anomaly. I walked carefully around it "Can I sit?" I asked in my poor Russian. I got a lot of shrugs in reply, and some curious looks. I didn't want to be rude, so I decided to take a chance and pull down my mask. Even in the firelight, the building was pretty dim; it would be all right.

No one was saying much of anything. One stalker was re-packing a medical kit. Another was inspecting what appeared to be hand-loaded cartridges one at a time. Every so often he would frown at one and discard it. The stalker with the guitar continued to strum away, staring vacantly at the fire. I got the sense he'd had a rough day too. The man across from me was using a pretty scary knife to spear sausages from a can.

They were all older than I was, though not by much. Grizzled. Stubble, scars, and lines decorated their faces. Only one of them wore what I'd call a proper suit of armor; the others had an assortment of fatigues and protective gear. They were well-armed. I set about cleaning my weapons. I didn't feel like it, but it wasn't optional. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't immediately notice that the music had stopped, and that the stalkers had begun to talk.

"They say he did Grader's camp."

"Who says?"

"I don't know. But nobody's seen Grader or his guys in a while."

"Just as well. That guy shook me down at Agroprom a few weeks ago. Ten bandits and I'm in the middle of the road without even a weapon."

"I heard Grader hired the Merc to protect him."

"Well, it didn't work. He's dead."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Who's in charge now?"

"I don't know. Some guy."

"Some guy."

"Hell with you, I didn't get his name."

"The Ghost will get him, too."

"Ghost?" I raised an eyebrow. That got me some funny looks. "I'm a rookie," I told them.

"Guy goes around stabbing people. They say he can get to anyone."

"Ah." My knife thudded into the wooden beam, just inches from the ear of the stalker who had spoken. Every man around the fire had a pistol to my head instantaneously. I leaned past the fire and pulled my knife out, bringing with it the writhing body of a spider almost as big as my hand. If that's not scary, I don't know what is. I flicked it off the knife and into the fire, then wiped the blade and made it disappear. I'd let the stalkers wonder where it had gone.

Actually, the spider had been minding its own business, and moving away from the stalker. But it had occurred to me only after I announced that I was a rookie that might not be a smart move. I didn't know what kind of company I was in. These guys seemed decent enough, but what did I know? So I'd let slip that I was a rookie, but a little showboating also showed them I wasn't easy prey.

They were putting their guns away, and the guy across from me was looking at the spider as it burned. "Thank you, brother." So he spoke English.

"Don't mention it."

"The Ghost will kill anybody," another stalker said, and the conversation was back in Russian again. "Anybody at all. Nothing can protect you. Not even the Merc."

I didn't ask who the Merc was. If I asked about every little thing I didn't know, this conversation would never get anywhere. Not that it seemed to be going anywhere anyway.

"If any of you are thinking of going to the forest, I am told there are bubbles."

Okay, I was about to ask what a bubble was – I couldn't resist – but the question was answered by the guy beside me. "I got stuck in a time bubble once," he grimaced. "Took me two weeks to get out. I nearly starved. But," he said, holding up a finger. "That is not the worst. I met a stalker in Pripyat who told me he had found an anomaly that paralyzed him, and electrified anything that came near. It only freed him when there was an emission imminent. I do not know whether to believe him."

"Never heard of that one."

"Me neither. There's one in the lowlands – the Twilight Shower – they say it can give you peace."

"Ya, but it moves around. You never find it."

"People find it sometimes. I want to try it."

"Don't go down there this time of year, more blood drinkers."

"True, but unless I can find work I have no choice but to trade my rifle for a detector. What if the Twilight Shower produces artifacts? What price would you pay?

Some nods of agreement. I guess times were tough for everybody, not just the blonde. Speaking of blondes, the stalker to my left had a photo in his hand. I gave it a discreet look, and was taken aback when I noticed the blonde in the photo was the same blonde I'd seen the night before – though they were worlds apart. In the photo – well, instead of battered and unstable, she looked healthy and happy. She wore green fatigues and a beret at a jaunty angle. It wasn't clear to me that she knew she was being photographed, but she was showing a smile about a mile wide, and the whitest, most perfect teeth anybody's ever seen.

I leaned over a little. "Who's she?" I asked.

"This?" He angled the photo toward me, smiling lopsidedly. "Velvet. She ran Freedom's rookie camp in the south, before the Military came. She was killed at Chernobyl when the Military and their scientists made the push for the center."

"Ah."

"I never saw her in the flesh, but I traded a Beretta for this photo. I don't know what came over me." He gave a little laugh. Another stalker grinned and produced a different photograph of the same woman.

"I used to have one. I threw it away when I heard she died."

"You guys are idiots," someone else said. Everybody laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

Freedom

Chapter 10

I didn't like it. Wearing a mask isn't enough to make a bad man, but it's never a good sign. I was wearing one, after all.

He had a battered Kevlar vest on over a thermal, and a short leather jacket over that. I wondered how he could see through the goggles at all; they looked opaque. The glare had to be terrible.

He was medium height, and his build was similar to mine. His clothes looked suitably battered, but his boots were almost new. The red scarf wrapped around his left bicep identified him as the stalker I was supposed to escort back to the farmstead.

I put away my binoculars and turned to sit down on the rooftop I was using as my observation post. There had been a flurry of activity around dawn; most stalkers heading out in the wild, and a few exhausted ones stumbling in. Now it was midmorning, and there was almost no activity. I checked my watch. It was another half hour before I was actually supposed to meet this guy. He was punctual.

There was an HK91 over his shoulder; I didn't read anything into that. But when he thought no one was looking, he'd briefly checked over a Makarov with a suppressor, before stowing it out of sight. I didn't like that.

I got up and took a second look. He hadn't moved. I sat back down to think.

I just couldn't figure it. The blonde wasn't slimy, I was sure of that – but this didn't add up. Velvet, huh? You know, I think I might have encountered her somewhere in my research – a footnote in someone's essay. Women are virtually unheard of in the Zone, with a notable exception being one who rose to prominence in the Freedom faction with remarkable speed. Details unknown… Something like that. I couldn't remember.

Rising up in Freedom quickly, huh? Well, hard not to think of that only one way – but somehow, Velvet didn't seem like the type. There was more to her than met the eye. She was beautiful, of course, but if a woman is so alluring that stalkers will trade firearms for fully-clothed photographs of her, she's probably something out of the ordinary. That wasn't relevant. At least, I didn't think it was.

Freedom, on the other hand, was very relevant. I knew about the Military's incursion – how all factioners had been hunted and persecuted by Duty and the Military during that period. Examples were made; it had been a clumsy effort to keep the way clear for Project Railgun. It had, to no one's particular surprise, backfired. But not before Freedom was hunted virtually to extinction. People thought Velvet was dead.

So she was in hiding. There were still people looking for her, no doubt. Someone had to know they'd dropped the ball, and that was a mistake they'd be hoping to correct. All right, that worked. Why send me to get this guy?

I had to be careful here. I'd already been set up once. She'd sent me because I was a rookie. Because I didn't know who she was, because it wouldn't occur to me that her location might be worth something – unless I discovered her identity and the heat level that went with it, which was a long shot. Even so, risky. There were too many ways for it to go bad. She hadn't told me not to talk about her or her location – and for obvious reasons. Doing so would only make me suspicious.

But there were ways around all those problems. Maybe Velvet had slept her way through the ranks, but I suspected not. She and the Biker were running a careful game. Suddenly things, previously inexplicable, came into sharp focus.

That didn't mean I was safe. Velvet and the Biker had an agenda. I didn't know what it was, but that didn't matter. I was a loose end. They seemed decent, but they also knew how to get things done. I didn't believe they meant me harm, but I'm not infallible. I couldn't let my guard down for a second, and I wasn't kidding myself. I thought I had the whole picture, but you never have the whole picture. No one does, and thinking that you do will only get you into trouble.

I got up and took a look at my surroundings, then stepped off my roof to land on a lower one, and from there I dropped to the ground. I took the long way, weaving through the paths of the Bar, squeezing between buildings and going over them when necessary. Maneuvering to get behind the stalker wasn't hard.

I put my hand on his shoulder after approaching with no sound. He jumped. Stalkers are tense; you can't blame them. "You speak English?" I asked, ignoring him when he half-reached for his concealed pistol, purely on reflex. If I hadn't seen it before, he'd have revealed its location to me then.

"Yeah," he said, still frozen in place, looking at me over his shoulder. I knew exactly what I looked like to him. All in black, my mouth and nose covered by my mask. All he could see was a pair of eyes. I'd come out of nowhere without a sound. There was no reason to think this guy would try to pull anything with me, but it couldn't hurt to head off any thoughts in that direction. He was Russian or Ukrainian by the accent, but his English seemed good – I'd spoken in a low tone, and he'd understood me perfectly. He was about my age. Maybe al little younger.

His hand was still halfway into his jacket, but now he took it out. I tapped the red scarf and started off. I knew exactly the impression I'd given. An older stalker might not be impressed with theatrics, but I knew I'd gotten through to him.

Any interaction with another person is a relationship, and the Zone is a place where you want to have the upper hand in your relationships. Keep them off-balance. Never let them know what to expect. Never reveal your secrets, your patterns, or anything they can use against you.

But for all the toughness of my act, I was conflicted. I didn't want to go back into the Train Yard after last night. I didn't even really want to go back into the wild, even heading west. I was thinking a few more days loafing around the Bar wouldn't do me any harm. But every day leaving would be more difficult. You have to go while the going's good.

The stalker was following me, hurrying to keep up. He was young, but he wasn't a rookie. He'd collected himself, and was back on point, right where I wanted him. I didn't want to have to look out for him the way I had the Americans. I needed a partner for the yard, not baggage.

I didn't slow down; I didn't want my resolve to falter. I hadn't thought to get the stalker's name, but that could wait. The Duty guards gazed at me as I approached the gate. I was a curiosity; my unusual suit of all black, and my mask – most stalkers wear masks for purposes more utilitarian than privacy. They probably thought I was playing ninja. Maybe I was. I looked up at them as I passed, seeing myself reflected in the eyes of their gas masks.

Duty men. And here I was, working for Freedom. Unknowingly, but that wouldn't matter to Duty. Was Velvet part of Freedom anymore? Maybe she wasn't. Did Freedom even exist? It was easy to see why they'd keep me in the dark, but it still didn't dispose me kindly toward them.

I had no relationship with Duty, and I didn't want one. I hadn't intended to align myself with any faction, unless I saw that as a way to live a little longer. Things weren't going as planned. I was mixed up with the wrong people. People who were going to get me killed, or maybe kill me themselves. Honor dictated that I not walk out on them until the job was done.

I was rid of the Americans, but now I had another stranger in tow. One who didn't add up. One who was carrying a suppressed pistol he didn't want to anyone to know about. The only reason I was willing to let him walk behind me was the knowledge that he needed me to get him to his destination.

That was the beginning of Day 3.


	11. Chapter 11

Freedom

Chapter 11

Daylight was not kind to the yard. Carcasses festered. Brass glittered. Dried pools of blood lay in our path with alarming regularity. In the light it was easy to see just how many anomalies there were, and how vast the yard really was. You'd need a month if you wanted to see every corner of it.

There were a lot of crows in the air, but nothing approaching the number that had formed the Thin Stalker's halo the day before. I was edgy. Maybe it was the crows, maybe it was my predicament.

My new friend and I made our way through the yard with our weapons at the ready – but it was clearly less active in daylight. We didn't speak. Deteriorating metal creaked and moaned. Crows cawed, and faraway dogs barked. At one point I thought I heard a distant shout, carried by the wind – but nothing came of it.

I thought we were nearing the perimeter, and was looking forward to getting into open country – but I had to hold up when the alley we were following abruptly terminated. There was too much open ground ahead of us. This wasn't the same route through the yard the Americans and I had taken; everything looked different in daylight.

The stalker paused beside me, pulling down his tinted goggles to let them hang around his neck. He looked alert. I didn't trust him, but I wasn't too proud to admit it was good to have someone with a little awareness along.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not sure." I had a bad feeling. Lowering myself to a crouch, I took out my PDA and called up my map. "We're a little off track." I looked up at the yard ahead. "I don't like it." The stalker knelt beside me, pointing at the PDA screen.

"There's a way out in this corner, past those tracks over there." He indicated the direction with his chin.

"It's a long road in the open."

"Yes." He looked troubled. "Where are the birds?"

He had a point; maybe that was what had alarmed me. It was quieter here. We both squinted at the yard, looking for something, anything to explain the wrongness.

"You feel that?" I said, scanning the rooftops.

Very slowly, he tilted the HK91 to be sure the safety was off. "What do I call you?"

I glanced over at him. I guess I'd put it off long enough. I thought about the name everyone knew me by, then about my given name. Stalkers liked simple names, usually nouns. They named themselves after all sorts of things, from animals to medical conditions. I thought about the characters in my name and their literal readings. I didn't have much to work with. Only one that sounded even vaguely stalkerlike.

"Mist," I said finally. "You can call me Mist."

"Sagaris," he said, pronouncing it 'Sahgriss.'

I guess we were both pretty sure something was about to go horribly wrong. Why it was important to get introduced before it did, I wasn't sure. Maybe in a firefight it would be good to have a way to address each other.

"There." He pointed with one gloved hand, and I looked up at the metal observation tower. It leaned dangerously, and the upper levels were covered in some kind of growth, dark, and clearly anomalous. It took me a moment to see what Sagaris meant; even after I spotted it, I wasn't sure. I took out my binoculars. He was right.

There was a man in a ghillie suit up there, the barrel of his rifle poking out from the blind he'd built around himself.

"Who do you think he is?" I asked, keeping my voice extra low. The man was far off.

"Not Duty."

"Yeah."

"Bandit?"

"Or a loner on the way to becoming one."

"You think he's alone?" I asked. Sagaris had binoculars out, scanning the buildings. "He'd have a spotter if he wasn't, and I don't see one."

"Why set up so close to the Bar?"

"He knows people come through here." Sagaris lowered his binoculars. "And this way he doesn't have to carry his loot as far. It looks like that's a pretty big gun he's got there, and my armor is weak. I don't want to risk it."

"Maybe he's hunting mutants."

"Not at this time of morning." Sagaris turned to me. "We take him down and run."

I sighed. Just like last night. Nothing for it. I took a deep breath. "Okay."

"I'll take the shot."

"Be my guest." Sagaris rose to his feet and readied his rifle. I took out my binoculars and trained them on the tower and its occupant. "If there's wind, it's not enough to matter at this range," I told him.

"Right." He lined up his sights and leaned in, closing his left eye. I zoomed in on the tower, looking more closely at the sniper. He was serious. He wasn't moving at all. He'd done a good job on his camo; he really looked like a part of the tower, but I could see that there was a human form there. A sleeve, a mesh-covered face. I heard Sagaris exhale as I followed the sleeve to the hand holding the rifle's handguard. He wasn't wearing a glove. In fact –

"Don't shoot, it's a trick," I hissed, but it was too late. The shot thundered off the walls of the buildings on either side of us, echoing through the yard. I saw fabric fold, but of course there was no reaction. Corpses don't care if you shoot them. The decomposing hand that was holding the rifle slipped a little as the round punched through the mesh.

It was a lure. Bait. Sagaris swore and pivoted with his rifle at his shoulder. Whoever had set the body up knew where we were now; that was probably the idea. We were corralled in this alley, and they'd have both ways covered. All they had to do was shoot us down as we came out. It was a perfect kill zone. I drew back, keeping my finger off my trigger with a monumental effort.

Sagaris hadn't moved; he expected them to come in after us. I didn't think they needed to, but I wasn't going to tell him that. We both knew exactly what was going on; there was no need to explain. I looked around the alley for an alternative, but there wasn't much to work with. Heavy wooden shutters were bolted over the windows of one building, and the other had no windows at all. I touched Sagaris' shoulder, still watching my end of the alley.

"We go out either way and we're dead. How about through here?"

He glanced at the building. "That's crazy."

"That's why it won't be covered."

"The place is huge. There could be anything in there."

"But we know what's out here," I countered.

He searched my face for a moment, then glanced at the nearest shutter. "See if you can get it open," he bit out, turning to cover my end. I went to the window to check it out. The shutter was essentially a small door. It was old and rotting, but quite thick. I gave it a firm push, but it was definitely bolted on the other side, and probably stuck in place because of the old paint.

Well, there were ways around it – but I didn't want to shoot it open. Our would-be ambushers would wonder what we were shooting at; they might decide to come see. So I slung my rifle and closed my eyes.

"We'll have to blow it open," Sagaris said.

"No." I concentrated.

"What are you doing?"

I drew back, then lunged forward and drove my palm directly through the shutter, splintering it like balsa wood. Sagaris said something in Russian, probably an expletive – but he sounded impressed. What we don't tell people is how much it hurts to do something like that. But it's a lot quieter than a burst of gunfire. I groped blindly for the latch. I found it, hearing Sagaris trying to watch both ends of the alley at once.

We didn't have much time. As expected, the handle was thoroughly rusted, but my glove gave me a good grip, though my sore hand didn't help. I gave it everything I had, and it broke free, grating a grudging ninety degrees. I pulled my arm out and gave the shutter a shove. It gave, but only slightly. I backed up, then hit it with my shoulder. It burst inward, revealing a whole lot of darkness.

I climbed through without a thought, and Sagaris clambered in after me.


	12. Chapter 12

Freedom

Chapter 12

I touched down, switching my light on and sweeping the immediate area. The place was hard to describe. It was just ugly. I saw moldy bricks, boarded-up doorways, rusted pipes, and a lot of things I was beginning to get used to. Sagaris was right beside me.

"Let's keep it quiet in here," he murmured.

"Wouldn't want to wake anything up."

"They come in to sleep during the daytime."

"Will those guys out there come in after us?"

"I doubt it. They're gutless; that's why they set a trap instead of doing their own hunting."

"Right."

"Should've brought a shotgun," Sagaris said to himself, and I silently agreed. We weren't armed for this; the building was big, but this room was downright claustrophobic. I switched off my chest light and slung my carbine, taking out my Glock and a hand light.

"Don't use that unless you have to." He checked his HK91's magazine. "Things go bad in here, we don't get out." That sounded pretty serious coming from a guy with a Russian accent.

I gave him a neutral look. "Let's not be here any longer than we have to be." He nodded, and I started toward the door.

The corridor was a nightmare, cramped, and thoroughly unattractive. Panels hung from the ceiling, clumps of unidentifiable growths clinging to them. There was some kind of anomaly on the floor that we didn't know what to make of. We could feel it gathering around our feet, but when we shone our lights down, there was nothing there. We moved quickly to get away from it, but blundered into some webbing that struck me as disturbingly sturdy. After we clawed our way free, we found ourselves on the edge of a vast chamber, maybe some kind of production floor. By unspoken agreement, we decided we had better chances in corridors, where we only had to worry about attacks from two directions.

The desiccated corpse of a stalker lay at a junction, a Desert Eagle still in hand, rusted beyond any possible use. We left him alone. There were some dead snorks in the next hallway, but it looked like they'd been there for a while. Rats occasionally skittered around our ankles, but not in quantity. I wasn't worried about them – I knew what to do if they decided to swarm.

The building was as quiet as it was labyrinthine. I'd tried to choose a path that would take us closer to our goal, but we quickly lost any semblance of direction. It was mutually understood that we'd take the first exit. If there were hostiles outside – well, then there'd be a fight. The unknown had previously seemed like a good alternative to a losing battle against ambushing bandits. Now I wasn't so sure. There was something cloying about the place. There was a pressure on my chest I couldn't explain. Mild claustrophobia, maybe. I wanted out, and I could tell Sagaris did too.

The walls turned from brick to tile, and I almost stumbled over just about the most awful thing I'd ever seen. It was a spider, and it probably weighed as much as I did. With legs extended, it would have been six or seven feet across, easily.

Fortunately, it was dead. It lay on its back in the middle of the stained, communal shower, its legs curled above it. Even in the glow of my light, Sagaris looked a little green. I probably did too, and that's quite a feat, since I'm Asian.

We stood there and stared at it for a while, not out of fascination – well, that too – but because neither one of us wanted to try walking past it. When we finally got the courage up, it didn't move. It really was dead and dried out. That made us feel a little better, but as we got deeper into the locker rooms, keeping a careful eye on the ceiling as well as the walls, we began to find the real lair.

The webbing was all ancient. It was dry, even crumbly to the touch. But it was everywhere, making an already hideous place borderline nauseating. I'd put away my Glock; I didn't know what we were up against in here, but I was no longer confident in a 9mm to do the job.

Remember what I said about the spider being the most awful thing? Forget that. I turned a corner, and the light on my AK lit up the main attraction at the nightmare expo. We'd agreed to be quiet, but neither of us could help swearing aloud at what we saw. Like the spider, it was dead, held to the wall by ancient, petrified webbing.

I estimated that the creature was eight feet tall. Maybe eight and a half. I had to look up, way up – just to see a face I'd rather not have seen at all. The thing was humanoid, and it brought to mind the blood drinkers that haunt almost every corner of the Zone. But it was not a blood drinker – at least, not the kind we were used to.

First of all, it was gray instead of brown. It was also too big. The blood drinkers – the normal ones, if you can call them that – look more or less like twisted, muscular men, except for their faces. That wasn't the case here. This thing was bony, and there were cruel-looking spiked horns growing out of it all over. It had to weigh six or seven hundred pounds, all of it muscle. The face was that of a blood drinker, save for additional spines and horns around the crown of the head.

The skeleton was scaled up along with the rest of the body, and I shone my light on the enormously heavy brow. It had to be an inch thick. Try getting a bullet through that. The tendrils making up the thing's mouth were frozen, splayed out in something like a scream. I supposed the venom from the spider must have seized them in the place.

I hadn't been aware that something like this existed, and by the look of Sagaris' face, neither had he. I wondered how the stalkers at the bar would feel, knowing there was something like this so close. Would they be able to sleep? I wondered if I could.

I swallowed. "We need to go." Sagaris nodded, looking a little wild about the eyes. We moved on, wanting to run, but too afraid to do more than walk, checking every corner with our lights.

Sagaris abruptly angled his light down, and reached over to force mine toward the floor.

"Lights out," he whispered. I didn't hesitate; I turned it off, feeling a flash of apprehension at the sudden darkness.

"What is it?"

"You smell that?"

There was something on the air, something more than the mold and decay that pervaded the rest of the building, but I hadn't the faintest idea what it was.

"What is it?" My voice was barely audible. I could hear myself breathing.

"Spore Lichen."

"What?"

"The bulbs don't like the light. If you shine it on them, they release spores."

"What then?"

"They make you very sick. You're throwing up and you can't see for two days," Sagaris replied.

In other words, a death sentence. In a place like this, at any rate. Swearing, I blinked rapidly, trying to get some kind of night vision. No point; there was absolutely no light. We stood in perfect blackness. I tried to calm my breathing.

"Find the wall," I said finally, reaching out and feeling my way down the corridor. The wall ended; we were in a room. Blindly, I started out into the dark. I thought I could see something, but I wasn't sure. It might have been daylight peeking in through a crack in a wooden shutter. Sagaris was thinking the same thing. "There," he whispered.

"Yeah." I sped up just a little, but it was enough. There was suddenly no ground in front of me, and I plummeted about eight feet to hit a metal grating. Hard. I know how to fall, and I was armored – but that only did so much. I couldn't help but let out a groan of pain, and I know the fall had made plenty of noise.

"You okay?" Sagaris' voice floated down from above.

I groaned, then stopped and held my breath.

"Hey," Sagaris hissed. I made shushing noises. They would have sounded ridiculous at any other time, but he got the message. I listened. It was there. A regular sound. No, not regular, but sort of rhythmic. Footsteps? It was kind of like marching.

It was coming from beneath me. I gingerly felt the bars I was lying on. It was some kind of drain.

I listened to the sounds and rustling. It was quiet, but not too quiet. Something – somethings – were moving down there, and they were doing it in almost absolute silence.

Aw, hell. There were solid bars between me and whatever was down there. I was still clutching my hand light. I angled it down, covered it with my hand, and switched it on. I spread my knuckles just enough to let a narrow beam fall down for just a fraction of a second – and that was long enough for it to shine on the parade below. I had only the briefest glance; I didn't dare keep the light on any longer, but I saw.

I don't know what they were, but there were a lot of them. And they were shambling through the tunnels beneath Rostov like they had a purpose.


	13. Chapter 13

Freedom

Chapter 13

I didn't know what I'd just seen. It was dark, I was still hurting from the fall, and my curiosity wasn't nearly as strong as my desire to get out of there. I could still hear the things below as I struggled to my feet and found my way to the edge of the drain. It took some fumbling, but Sagaris managed to help me to the top.

I leaned on him for a second, relieved, then tried to orient myself, searching for that sliver of light we'd spotted before my fall. Now I was really hurting, but I wasn't going to relax until we were outside.

Something moved. Not the things in the tunnel beneath, something else, and it was in the room with us. Sagaris must have heard it too, because he tensed. Seconds went by. We didn't move.

"Blood drinker," Sagaris whispered.

I blindly scanned the darkness. "Does he know we're here?"

"He's stalking us." There was a slight rustling as he readied his rifle. "Trying to decide if he wants to attack two men. Don't look afraid."

"Can he see us?"

"Yes."

I bit my lip and thought fast. A blood drinker was bad news at the best of times; I didn't see how this could end well. The stars were clearing from my eyes, and I spotted the way out. I was pretty sure it was a wooden shutter; if so, we could break through easily.

Trying to shoot at something in the dark is never a good idea. I eased my AK down, letting it hang on its harness and clearing my hands. Then I closed my eyes. "Don't move," I told Sagaris in a normal tone.

He must have obeyed, because when my words ended, there was perfect silence.

The thing in the room was not of the oversized variety that we'd seen in the shower. It wasn't making enough noise to be that big. There was another sound, but I couldn't get more than a vague direction out of it. It was cold, but I was sweating. I thought maybe we'd have a better chance if we just hosed the room with everything we had. We might hit it, right?

No, you had to figure any blood drinker worth its salt would have seen that one before. These things were supposed to be skilled hunters. But they were still humanoid – and that gave me an idea.

Concentration didn't come easily, not under the circumstances. I wasn't even thinking about the blood drinker; I was thinking about what I'd glimpsed moments ago. Something told me I desperately didn't want to know the truth about that – yet I couldn't get it out of my mind.

I felt sweat beading and turning icy on my face. The air in the room didn't move. Then it did. I shoved Sagaris out of the way and intercepted the grab, locking the creature's arm and swinging it around on its own momentum. I flung it as hard as I could toward where I knew the drainage pit had to be. It fell with an undignified hiss, and I hoped the impact hadn't sounded like that when I landed down there – but I was already running for the light, jerking my Glock out of its holster and firing at it, punching three neat holes. Daylight streamed in. I slammed my shoulder into the wood, and the hinges burst, letting in a whole window's worth of light. I got my hands on the sill and vaulted out. Sagaris was right behind me, but was abruptly yanked back before he was halfway out the window. I caught him, but it was immediately clear this was a losing battle. I guess there are plenty of vitamins in all that blood those things drink. I shoved my Glock past Sagaris' head and fired about five times. The grip on him vanished, and we both tumbled to the grass.

I rolled over, aiming at the window – but I doubted it would chase us into the light. It wouldn't have been too bad to lie there for a while, but we weren't very far from where we'd been ambushed in the first place. Sagaris felt the same way; he was already getting to his feet.

It wasn't until Rostov was the better part of a kilometer behind us that we dared to stop. I couldn't help but feel like I was spending a lot of time running away from things. Despite everything that had happened, we were both thinking about the same thing.

"You ever hear about anything like that?" I asked, panting.

"No."

I thought back to the creature, the enormous blood drinker in the web. It was the sort of thing people mentioned. The only thing I could think of was that no one had ever seen one and lived to talk about it.

"I didn't know blood drinkers came in different flavors," I said.

Sagaris shook his head. "That was no blood drinker."

"The hell it wasn't. It was – at least to begin with. And that isn't all."

He looked over sharply. "What?"

"There's something else down there."

"What are you talking about?"

"Something in the tunnels under the yard. There have to be a couple dozen of them."

"Mutants?"

"I don't know. I guess it could have been people. I didn't get a clear look. All I know is there were a lot of them."

Looking troubled, Sagaris turned away and ran a hand through his hair.

"Is that normal? Was any of that normal?" I demanded.

"Things have been getting strange for a while. It's getting worse."

"How bad does it have to get?"

The Zone was already a strange place. Everybody knew that. Was it getting so strange that even stalkers no longer knew what to make of it? Was it because there's a reduced stalker presence? Isn't there supposed to be balance? Doesn't the Zone keep stalkers from getting too far, and stalkers keep the Zone from expanding too quickly? Maybe the Zone had a power play after all those stalkers were killed by Duty and the Military – just like Duty's had one now.

Sagaris looked over his shoulder at me, expression unreadable. "It's Duty's problem. There's no one else."

"You don't look thrilled." I couldn't help myself; I hadn't come here for the politics, but considering the details of my assignment, there was no avoiding them.

"Everyone worries. The Zone getting stronger, Duty unchallenged."

"Where's Freedom when you need it?"

He didn't reply, instead studying his PDA. "Do you need to rest?"

"No, we can walk."

So we did. Mention of Freedom seemed to have killed Sagaris' desire for conversation. I wasn't sure what to think of him. I hadn't forgotten the feeling he'd given me when I'd been watching him. I couldn't trust him, but I also couldn't help but like him. He'd handled himself pretty well in there, and that was a relief. If I'd been in there with the Americans – well, I didn't even want to think about how that would have gone.

Trying to take a blood drinker with an open hand probably wasn't a good idea – and yet, they were humanoid. And I had a feeling that for all their animal strength, they were lousy martial artists. Any animal can see you telegraphing a knife swipe – but can they handle the intricacies of hand to hand combat if you take them on different terms? It was something to think about – but just because it had worked for me once didn't mean it was a good strategy. Maybe I'd gotten lucky.

It still gave me confidence. I'd done everything I could to prepare for the Zone – but there hadn't been any way to know if it was enough. I still didn't know, but it was Day 3 and I was still alive. That had to count for something.

I walked behind Sagaris, staring at his back. The events of the yard were behind me, though I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without being reminded of them. All I could do was hope that my dreams were all they would haunt.

We were in the open. There was nothing between me and the Zone. I knew the place had a way of affecting people, but I didn't think this was normal. I felt aware like I never had before, as though the very air here was some kind of spiritual conductor. Still watching Sagaris, I eased a knife out of my sleeve, balancing it on my finger as I walked. I had practiced a variety of tricks. This wasn't one of them. I couldn't account for it.

I had considered the options. The list of outcomes was short, but the Zone has been known to surprise people. Nothing was certain – except that Sagaris and I were exactly the same. Neither one of us was who we said we were.


	14. Chapter 14

Freedom

Chapter 14

I knew it was coming. I just wasn't sure how. I needn't have worried; Velvet and the Biker played it just right. Maybe they had Sagaris figured out, or maybe they were just being cautious – but they were ready for us when we reached the farmstead.

The Biker stepped out from behind a tree, Pernach outstretched. It wasn't the sort of thing you argued with. He ordered Sagaris to throw down his weapons, which he did, looking resigned. I didn't have to point out the Makarov; he gave it up willingly, which I thought was interesting. The Biker was keeping a wary eye on me, and it took me a moment to understand why. He didn't know where my loyalties were; I might have gotten wise and changed my view toward Velvet while I'd been away. He was too polite to disarm me, but I knew he'd gun me down in a heartbeat if I gave him an excuse.

I wasn't sure how to feel about this. Not being used – that part I understood and forgave. The problem was that though our acquaintance had been brief, Sagaris had grown on me, and things didn't look good for him. I'd suspected before; now I knew. Sagaris didn't look at me.

Velvet was waiting inside. She sat on the hearth, one knee drawn up, her elbow resting on it. She still looked battered, tired, slightly mad, and entirely breathtaking. Perhaps even more so, now that I knew who she was. Her MPL leaned against the fireplace within easy reach.

The Biker set down Sagaris' HK91 and dropped the Makarov, kicking it across the floor to Velvet, whose eyes flicked toward it only briefly. I quietly joined the Biker, leaning against the wall and leaving Sagaris alone in the middle of the room. I folded my arms, keeping my hands away from my Glock. I thought I knew what tension was before I came to the Zone. That day I learned different.

"Where did you get them?" Velvet spoke in a very neutral tone.

"From a flash drive I found on a dead stalker." Sagaris' reply was equally mild. He had guts.

"What did he look like?"

"Green fatigues, Duty armor re-painted. Freedom patch on his right shoulder. I don't know what he looked like; he'd been dead a while. He was missing a finger."

Velvet's eyes narrowed. "When did you find him? Where?"

"Altok. In a ditch. Almost a month ago."

"Why the wait?"

"I only just now got around to checking the drive."

"And you thought you'd collect the bounty on me."

"No," Sagaris replied firmly. "I didn't. I thought you were dead at Chernobyl like everyone else. I thought the last of Freedom had died with you. I thought whoever was on the band using these old codes had to be setting a trap."

Velvet didn't look impressed. It was a likely story.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"I came through your rookie camp. I didn't pledge, obviously."

"Obviously."

"I don't suppose you remember when those infected hit the camp at dawn, and your sentries were sleeping?" Velvet's eyes narrowed further. "Maybe you also remember one of them got into the barracks before your people got it under control." He dropped to one knee, and the Biker tensed. Sagaris wasn't going for a weapon. He simply rolled up the leg of his trousers, revealing a set of gruesome bite marks on his calf. "Good thing I'd had my shots," he said, scowling.

Velvet looked thoughtful. Sagaris got back to his feet. "Do you remember what I was wearing that day?" she asked finally. "A simple yes or no will do."

Sagaris snorted. "Yes," he replied.

"What's your name, stalker?"

"Sagaris."

"The same Sagaris that did the mutants under Valiman?"

"That was a simple job."

"So simple that Duty wasn't able to do it."

"Duty refused to do anything but send men in. I got chemicals at Yantar, and used them to convince the creatures I was going to gas them – then just shot them when they came out. Just getting here from Rostov today was more of a challenge."

Velvet said nothing to that, she just looked at him. The intensity of her gaze was intimidating. My admiration for Sagaris was growing. I wasn't sure what to make of the story – between my own guesswork and what was said, I thought I understood – but one question remained.

"The mercs are actively destabilizing the Zone, maintaining the need for their services. Clear Sky refuses to come out of the bogs. The Alliance has dissolved. The Military won't come inside again, not for a while. The bandits are loving every minute of this. They don't want anything to change. Duty is recovering fast. If this goes on, in a year they'll be calling the shots from here to the channel. Loners will cease to exist. The Zone will be," Velvet paused, "…regulated." She spoke the word so flatly that her distaste was conveyed more strongly than if she'd shouted.

There was silence. Even Sagaris was starting to wilt.

"Join my unit," she said.

Sagaris swallowed. "The alternative?"

Velvet put her hand on her 9mm Steyr.

"You really think you can bring it back?"

"I don't see anyone else trying."

"Duty has its hands full, but the minute they find out about this, they'll be after you with everything they've got. The guy they've got in charge – he does not like competition."

"I know."

Sagaris put his hands on his hips, chewing his lip. He turned and looked toward the Biker and me. His gaze lingered on me for a moment; I tried to look neutral. Maybe he felt betrayed. Maybe he thought I'd been in on this. I'd been wise to it, not in on it. I reminded myself that he was the one who had really been doing the deceiving – even if he had been doing it for the right reasons. Which still wasn't clear. I wanted to believe him, but I knew better than to give out my trust lightly.

He turned back to Velvet. "You want things to go back to the way they were."

"There's no going back."

"You want to eradicate Duty."

"No. They have a right to be here."

Sagaris appeared to mull that over. "I guess you wouldn't still be alive if you didn't know what you were doing. You must have a plan. And even if you didn't, it'd beat the alternative." He shrugged. "I don't want to die here. How many men have you got?"

"Counting you, one."

He swallowed again. "Maybe I should just let you shoot me."

"It would be quicker. But think of the carpet." We all looked down at the rotting wooden boards we stood on.

Sagaris sighed, shaking his head. "I came out here for bandit bounties. I just want it on record I don't think this is fair."

"Noted."

"All right." He straightened. "I'll pledge."

"Wise."

"Hardly."

"Too right. This isn't about open war with Duty. That isn't going to happen. It's about restoring balance."

"If you think you can do that without going to war, I'd like to see what you have up your sleeve. And if you do go to war, don't do it until you've got more than one man."

"We'll see."

Sagaris became serious. "Since we're all friends now," he turned to include me and the Biker. "Have you seen anything strange out here?"

"What do you mean? It's pretty tame this far out," the Biker replied.

"Tell them."

I frowned, but acquiesced. "We got ambushed at the yard and had to cut through one of the larger buildings. There were – a lot of strange things in there, but one in particular. It looked like a bigger, meaner blood drinker."

That got the Biker's attention. "How much bigger?"

"Twice normal size at least. It's not a blood drinker anymore," Sagaris said. "It's a Blood Demon." Melodramatic, but I had to admit, fitting.

Brows high, the Biker turned to Velvet, who looked equally troubled. "That would not be something to run into on a dark knight," she said.

"No. It's getting bad out there. Did you have any trouble with it?"

"It was already dead, or we would not be here," Sagaris said.

Velvet said something in a language I wasn't familiar with, but I got the gist of it.

"I can see why you set up out here," he continued.

"It's not all roses." Velvet sighed, reaching into her pocket. She took out a small wooden statuette. It was crude, probably carved by hand with a combat knife. The artistry was pretty bad, but that didn't make the vision any less awful. It was some kind of creature with tentacles. Beyond that I didn't know what to make of it.

"I found this less than a kilometer from here. They're turning up everywhere. We've got more than just Duty to worry about."


	15. Chapter 15

Freedom

Chapter 15

"Aren't you taking this a little easy?"

The Biker looked tired. "It isn't my decision to make. He can kill us for the bounty on Velvet, but he has to know he wouldn't have long to spend it. She's the only the chance the Zone has. Everyone else is too scared to try." The big man shrugged. "She bought his story. Good enough for me."

"Can I ask something?" My eyes lingered on Velvet as she listened to something Sagaris was saying.

"Why not."

"What's wrong with her?"

He frowned. "A friend of mine brought her out of the underground just before Railgun went to hell. She was in bad shape. I don't know what went on down there, but we know Duty was hunting her. My guess? They caught her and interrogated her, tried to get the locations of other Freedom remnants."

This was not, in fact, what had happened – but neither the Biker nor I would learn about that for some time.

"Think she gave them up?"

"Nothing to give up. She's one of the last officers, maybe the only one left. But even if she had something they wanted, I doubt she'd have parted with it. What does it look like to you?"

I saw what he meant. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"She isn't counting you as part of Freedom."

"I'm a loner. That won't ever change."

"But you're in for the long haul."

"Maybe. What about you, rookie?"

"Going to make me the same offer as him? Join or die?"

"No. You've been straight with us. You know the location of this farmstead, but we're leaving in the morning. You know Velvet's alive, but so does Duty. It wouldn't do us any favors if you went around talking, but it's a chance she's willing to take. You can take your money and go."

I turned to look out the window, unsure what to say. It was getting dark.

"I agree with what you're doing," I said finally. "But a handful of stalkers against Duty – even weakened Duty – I didn't come here to die. No hard feelings."

"What did you come here for?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I pulled down my mask. None of these three people were going to recognize me, and I didn't care if they did. I wanted to breathe. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course. You can set up shop. We're gone tomorrow and we aren't coming back."

I knew better than to ask where they were going.

A light rain was falling, but I wanted air. I went outside and sat down on the edge of the crumbling porch. Water ran from the corners of the roof, splashing down to the sickly grass. I pulled off my gloves and held out my hands, doing my best to rinse them. Three days without a shower. A small problem when compared to other things, like mortal peril – but it wore on me. It was bad enough that there was a long, dangerous road ahead of me. It was a long, dangerous road without showers. That didn't do much for my morale.

But the cool air felt good, and the sound of the rain on the metal roof of the porch was soothing. I slipped into meditation as effortlessly as I might slip into a heated pool. At that moment I wanted a shower so badly it almost hurt – but it wasn't going to happen. I couldn't change reality. I could only change the way I looked at it.

Time must have passed, because it was pitch black before I knew it. Flickering firelight was visible inside the house. Wooden boards creaked, and I turned to see Velvet closing the rotting door behind her. The rain was heavier now, and she avoided a hole in the roof, joining me at the edge of the porch. She didn't sit close to me, and even at rest I could tell she was tense and ready to move.

From an interior pocket she took out a wad of currency and offered it to me. I understand the idea of hazard pay, but this had to be pretty generous. I peeled off a few notes and pocketed them, then handed back the rest.

"You don't have to bribe me to stay quiet. I won't tell anyone about you."

She accepted the money, looking taken aback. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

It was true. I was. I hadn't even gotten started really surprising people yet.

"Are you mad we weren't straight with you?"

"No, I get it."

"We could use a guy like you."

"Freedom went out easily when it was big. How long do you think a little startup like this will last against Duty?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I wasn't in charge back then."

"You wouldn't have let it happen?"

"No, I wouldn't."

Big talk. I stared out at the dark. "I hope you pull it off."

"One year."

I looked over at her. "What did you say?"

"One year. In a year it will be too late. So I'm going to build Freedom up as much as I can." She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Then I'm leaving, if I'm able."

"Where will you go?"

She gave me a sidelong glance, then leaned forward, reaching back to pull a battered old postcard from her back pocket. She held it out to me, and I took it. It showed a beach, and a glittering skyline. VISIT SUNNY SILVER BAY was printed across the blue sky in big, friendly letters.

I frowned. "Really?"

"I had one of those postcards when I was a girl. I don't know what happened to it." Velvet rested her chin on her hands. "While I was on the run, I got a reading from my detector. There was an anomaly, and when I got close, it vanished – but that was lying there in the grass."

"You're telling me this is some kind of artifact?"

"I don't know what it is. But if I make it through this, that's where I'm going."

I let out a low whistle and handed the postcard back. "As if I didn't doubt your sanity enough. One year, huh?"

"One year."

"I said the same thing."

"What?"

"It's one year for me, too."

Velvet slipped the postcard into a pocket, nodding. "I thought it might be something like that. I couldn't figure why someone like you would be here."

"Someone like me?"

She shrugged. "Someone from money. That paints a picture. The easily-bored, over privileged adrenaline junky. I guess skydiving isn't enough for you anymore. Either that, or you have something to prove."

"It's just an exercise."

"So you bet yourself you could survive the Zone for a year? Why so long?"

"Maybe it wasn't the best idea," I said. That was an understatement. "But think if I make it – think how strong I'll be."

"I think you're strong enough."

"If we both make it, we'll be leaving at the same time." I turned to Velvet. "Are you superstitious?"

"You heard my postcard story. What do you think?"

I laughed.

"You hide your face," she said. "I suppose you're enough of a somebody that it's necessary."

"I don't think the odds of anyone in this part of the world recognizing me are very high," I said honestly. "But I'm worth enough of a ransom – and there are enough people here looking to make a fortune – that it doesn't seem worth the risk."

"Where are you from?"

"Hong Kong."

"Talking like that? Please."

"Born in Hong Kong." I hesitated. "Raised in Toronto."

Velvet snorted. "A Canadian stalker."

"I'm not Canadian, damn it."

"Sure you are. Can you speak Chinese?"

"Well – no."

"If you can't speak Chinese, you aren't Chinese."

"I never said I was Chinese."

"It's the Zone and I'm the boss. I say what I want. And I've actually got a man under my command now."

"One man." I shook my head. "Under duress."

"Freedom started with one man the first time, too."

"What do you actually know about Silver Bay?"

"Huh? Well – nothing, I guess. But it must be very pretty and sunny."

I sighed. I'd been about to tell her about what that city was really like – but why kill her dream? Maybe that was what was keeping her going. "It is," I lied. I supposed she'd learn about the riots and such in her own time.

"I've never seen the Pacific," Velvet said. Wow, we were really hitting it off. For the first time, she actually seemed sort of relaxed. She was still sitting too far away, and if there had been enough light to see her eyes, they'd probably still look pretty crazy – but I wasn't complaining.

"You know why I came to the Zone. Why did you?"

Velvet opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. When she smiled at me, I knew I'd screwed up. "I ran into some bad luck," she said. "That's all." She got to her feet and brushed herself off. I groaned inwardly. I should have known better than to ask that. She was heading for the door, and I quickly got up.

"I wouldn't do something like pledging until I was convinced you meant business," I told her.

Velvet paused and looked back. "I wouldn't be above hiring a loner until he could make up his mind," she said, then disappeared inside.

So there you go. Now you know why I did it. I wasn't the first man to do something indescribably stupid because of a great set of… eyes. But I thought I was above that. I guess not.

Author note: Coming right along. 15 already. How's everyone liking it?


	16. Chapter 16

Freedom

Chapter 16

A day or two ago you wouldn't have been able to convince me that I'd be spending another night in the same place as Velvet and the Biker of my own accord. I've since learned that the Zone is the sort of place where you don't know where you'll be one hour in the future, much less one day. Trying to make prediction is a waste of time.

Like everything else had so far, Day 4 came at me at a thousand miles an hour. I hardly closed my eyes and it was dawn. I wasn't a part of Freedom, but I was working for it in an official capacity now. You wouldn't have been able to convince me I'd be working for a faction – but there I was.

I'd been up half the night fretting about the wisdom of what I was doing. Aligning myself with the little guy. It wasn't the best long-term survival tactic, and in the Zone, a year was a long time. My job was to stay alive. I wondered if I was making the right play. Well – I'd told Velvet the truth. Presumably, she'd know better than to think I'd play the hero.

The four of us – the Biker, Velvet, Sagaris, and myself – were walking east, straight toward the sunrise. I didn't even know where we were going, but I wasn't worried, and that had nothing to do with my exhaustion. You'd think the sky is just as wide wherever you are, but now I know better. That morning in the Zone, it was wider than I'd ever seen it. Streaks of pink shot across the horizon.

Sagaris seemed remarkably at ease, considering his predicament. Understandably, the Biker was keeping a close eye on him. Things should have been tense, but they weren't. He strode along like he did this every day. Maybe he did.

Velvet had her MPL slung across her back, and a gas mask around her neck, ready to be donned at a moment's notice. It wouldn't do to have someone recognize her – she was supposed to be dead, and she had to stay that way, at least until the opportune moment.

I wondered if I would be around long enough to see that moment. I hoped I would be. That alone was enough, I know now. Staying with Velvet wasn't the brightest move. I wasn't doing it because I should have, but because I wanted to. I'd seen the Zone, and I'd seen her. I couldn't deny that I was curious to see what happened when you put the two together.

I was going to have a front-row seat.

"Where are we going?" I asked, slowing my gait to fall in alongside her.

Velvet's eyes were fixed squarely on the horizon. "Do you know what we need?"

"Need?"

"For Freedom to challenge Duty. To bring back balance."

"Besides a lot more people?"

"Weapons. Ammunition. Premises. Vehicles. Supplies. Personnel. Intelligence. A medic, a mechanic, a quartermaster, officers. All of it has to be funded. You think it's hard starting a small business out there, wait until you try it in here."

"You need money."

"Lots of it."

She had a lot of cash – I'd seen that firsthand. But I knew she meant a different kind of money. She was talking real income streams, something I happened to know a little about – but not in this context.

"Where does it come from?"

"People, ultimately."

"And where do you get the people?"

"The people are all around. But it's convincing them to follow me that makes it difficult. I'm a joke, Mist. I ran Freedom's rookie camp. I was a commander, but you know what people thought about that. You probably thought it yourself. It's not true, but I'll never convince anyone of that. No stalker will follow a woman unless she can prove she can deliver."

"Can you?"

"Deliver?"

"Prove it."

"No. Not in the timeframe I'm working with."

"Then what do you do?"

"I cheat." She glanced over at me. "No one will follow me. But what if there was a Freedom officer, one with enormous credibility. A proven track record. A man beyond doubt, beyond reproach. A man that everyone who doesn't like what they see Duty doing right now could believe in. What if a man like that had survived the Incursion?"

"All Freedom officers were confirmed dead."

"I know that and you know that." She smiled grimly. "But I'm supposed to be dead, too."

"You have someone in mind."

"I might have a hunch." She patted the pouch containing her PDA.

"You want to set up a puppet."

"It's the most efficient way."

"It also puts another layer between you and Duty."

"The best plans always have unintended benefits."

We walked in silence for a moment. "We're going to find this person?"

"No, we won't be able to find him without a guide."

"Are we going to get the guide?"

"No, we're going to get the muscle that we'll need to live long enough to get to the guide, and the guide will take us to the man."

I looked down at her, studying her face in an effort to determine whether or not she was kidding. I couldn't tell. "You still haven't told me how you're going to keep Duty off our backs once this thing starts picking up speed."

"I just won't give them a reason to come after us."

"They don't need a reason – the fact that you're Freedom is enough."

"Suppose they don't know that."

"You want to put on a different name?"

"It's a thought. Unless you want to face off with them right now."

"We can't face off with them at all. If we do, we're dead."

"And we won't have to."

"You have a plan."

"I always have a plan."

God help me, I believed her. "Why are you doing this?"

"You've been here long enough to know that it wouldn't be right to let one group of people own this place." I'd asked a big question, and she'd answered it with one sentence. I pulled down my mask and rubbed my chin.

"And you're willing to die for that?"

"It's not like I have anything else going on."

We spotted a pack of dogs as we crested a hill, and changed course to avoid them. The sky overhead was perfectly blue, but in the east it was black as night. I still wasn't used to it.

"Was it always like that?"

"So dark?" Velvet shrugged. "No. Apparently it's sunny in the center."

"The center? I thought no one had ever gotten there."

"Three have that I know of. Two of them are still alive. But it might not really be sunny. They saw things there that weren't real. They saw Chernobyl crumbling, but to the rest of us outside, it's still there. So who knows what it's really like in there."

"The power plant?"

"Yes. Pay it a visit before your year's up. It's on the must-see tour list."

I snorted. "What's the average life-expectancy in those parts?"

"Now that Monolith isn't around? If you know how to handle your mutants and you have a working Geiger counter, there's no problem. You still can't get to the center."

"Why not?"

"The barrier. It's what the Military was trying to bring down during the battle. They only got it open for a moment, and everything was lost by then." A pause. "Or so I've been told."

"You weren't there?"

"I was there. But I wasn't paying attention."

I got the feeling it was better not to ask. "Barrier," I said aloud. "Why?"

"To keep people from the Wish Granter."

"You think it's real?"

"I've spent a lot of time thinking about it. I still don't know. I always thought that someday I'd find out for myself, that things would just fall into place, and I'd find myself on my way to the center. That isn't going to happen now."

"Even if you have the best plan in the world, bringing Freedom back isn't going to be easy."

"Thank you, Commander Obvious."

"It's Captain Obvious."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. It's him, isn't it?"

"What?"

I let my gaze flick to the Biker. "He's been to the Center."

Velvet's eyes narrowed. "How can you tell?"

"I can feel it."

She looked up at me, expression unreadable. "There really is something different about you."

"I don't know about me, but there's definitely something different about him. Who's the other one?"

"The other man who made it out of the Center?"

"Yeah."

"Don't trouble yourself over him."

"Why not?"

"Because he's with Duty now. Let's change the subject."

"In that case I'd like to hear your miracle scheme. You still haven't told me how you're going to fund this operation – not really."

"Money doesn't just fall out of the sky, Mist."

The thudding of rotors reached us. We stopped and turned to see a chopper roar past overhead, flying incredibly low.

"Where's he going in such a hurry?" Velvet wondered aloud, but I wasn't listening, because I was sprinting after the helicopter.

I recognized that chopper. It was the same guys that had sold me out.


	17. Chapter 17

Freedom

Chapter 17

When I first decided to go to the Zone, I didn't give much thought to the changes I'd undergo when I got there. I thought ahead. I thought about ways to keep my mindset in the kind of place that would keep me alive. I tried to give myself every advantage. But what I didn't think about was that I would have to make decisions. I thought things would be different; there would be constant danger. Things would be moving too quickly; I would have to be constantly adapting – there would be no time to think about what I was doing.

So now I knew different. I didn't know what I was going to do. I was sprinting after a helicopter – I guess that tells you something about what I had in mind. If asked, I probably would have denied being the type to be interested in retribution – but that was because nobody'd ever done anything to me. It's easy to objectively say that revenge is wrong, but things stop being objective when somebody wrongs you. These guys had tried to get me killed. Why? For material gain. I guess that really upset me.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do if I caught up to them, which realistically, I should not have expected to do. A look back told me everyone was following. I hadn't meant to derail the mission, but I hadn't been thinking before, and I wasn't about to start. People who are thinking don't chase helicopters on foot.

Ahead, the chopper dipped out of sight. I pushed myself to run harder, though I knew I couldn't possibly make it in time. Gasping for breath, I crested a hill in time to see the chopper begin to rise from the valley below. It had already let its passengers off. I scowled.

"Another time," I said, watching it bank east.

Shots rang out, and I dropped to the tall grass. I'd been thinking about the chopper, not its occupants – it sounded like setting people up to be ambushed was a real racket for that helicopter crew. The others were there with me now, and I crawled forward to get a look at the valley. There were four figures near where the chopper had been – no, two. Two of them were falling to the grass, shot.

Then I saw the attackers – unmistakably bandits. Those ragged coats are easy to spot. A gray one, a brown one, and a green one, all packing shotguns. They were advancing on the two newcomers who were still standing. I squinted down at them. I had to be imagining it. Or maybe the Zone was playing tricks on my eyes.

"You gotta be kidding me," the Biker said, turning to the Velvet, who looked similarly taken aback. Okay, so I really saw what I thought I did. Velvet abruptly grew serious.

"Is it just the three?" she asked quietly. "Or do you see a spotter? Sagaris?"

"It's just them. If there was a fourth, he'd have come out by now."

"Get the brown and the gray. Mist, take the one in green. On three."

"What?"

"Shoot him."

"Just like that?"

She gave me a look, and I cringed. "On three," she said. Head spinning, I wormed my way into position beside Sagaris, lining up my AK. It was a longer shot than I was comfortable with, but there wasn't any good reason I couldn't make it. I had a couple of optics in my pack that would have been better suited for the job, but naturally, there was no time to get them out. I checked my safety.

"Relax," Sagaris said, closing his left eye.

"Three," Velvet said, peering through her binoculars.

I squeezed my trigger, then followed up with a couple more shots as the man was falling, just to be sure. He was too far out for me to be precise. Sagaris fired twice. We were both on target. The bandits went down without theatrics, though the shots echoed through the valley.

Velvet rose to a crouch, readying her MPL. "Okay. Biker, Sagaris – watch the perimeter. Someone might have heard that. Mist, cover me."

Sagaris and the Biker moved off in different directions. Velvet started down the hill, and I went after her. I'd forgotten all about the chopper. You know you've made some wrong turns in your life when five people have died in less than a minute – one of them at your hands – and you don't even think about it.

I wasn't thinking about the man I'd just shot. In fact, I hardly remembered shooting him. I let Velvet draw ahead of me; I knew what she was thinking. I readied my carbine but didn't raise it – I didn't want to spook anyone, and I seriously doubted Velvet was in any danger from these two. I stayed a few meters behind Velvet, but I was close enough to see the newcomers clearly.

My attention was, understandably, drawn first to the shorter of the two. It was her hair, which was violently purple. This was after I'd gotten over my initial shock at seeing not one, but two females in a place where the only females I knew of were Velvet and the prostitutes at some brothel the stalkers were always talking about. So anyway, purple hair – short, manageable, but purple. I'm not kidding. She had on a lot of makeup, especially eye shadow. I thought she looked pretty cute, but she also looked pretty young. She had on blue jeans and a hooded jacket that didn't look adequate.

The other woman, with whom Velvet was speaking, was taller. Her hair was long, and a refreshingly natural brown. She had pale skin and a pretty, but forgettable face. Forgettable – yet she seemed familiar. She had on a much more sensible coat, but the thing to note was that both of these young women were wearing civilian clothes.

I looked up to see the Biker standing on the far ridge, keeping careful watch to the east. Sagaris was doing likewise at the other end of the valley. I reached up and flicked on my ear piece.

"…you think?"

"Seems likely," the Biker replied. "Though why they would drop off Kevorich's girls here, I don't know."

"They don't look like they're going to Kevorich."

"I don't know. Sometimes they look pretty clueless when they come in here."

"How would you know?"

"Are you kidding? I used to do courier for the fat man."

"Did you really?"

"Yeah – but I found out he was using me to move heroin, so I shot him in the face."

"That was you?"

The Biker snorted. "Who did you think it was?"

"I don't know."

"Who's the fat man?" I asked quietly.

"He used to be the guy running Kevorich." Kevorich was, if you don't know, the Zone's notorious brothel, located in what amounts to the poor man's Rostov.

"And you killed him."

"It was justified."

"Who's in charge now?"

"Plastic," the Biker and Sagaris told me in unison, distaste in their voices.

I frowned. "Beg pardon?" But they were already talking about something else. I turned to look at the women. I wasn't sure what to make of them; the purple-haired one looked too young, and the other one didn't seem the type. But if they weren't prostitutes, what were they doing here? Okay – so that was a pretty incendiary thing to think, but I thought it. I mean – it's the Zone, you know? Had they gotten lost? No – that chopper was an exclusive Zone charter. They knew where they were going. Why?

There were five bodies on the ground. The two that weren't bandits caught my eye. They both wore sturdy, almost trendy outdoor clothing, and I saw Kevlar vests. They both had sophisticated-looking hunting rifles. Interesting.

Keeping an eye on the women, who were still in conversation – well, Velvet and the taller one were – I knelt and picked up one of the rifles. That was the first time I ever felt a material desire in the Zone. I'd noticed how Sagaris had effortlessly dropped two guys with two shots and nothing but irons. I'd learned how to shoot before coming here, but I could tell when I was outclassed. I thought that maybe with a weapon like this, I could have made the kill a little more cleanly. Like that guy in that movie said – the only man who could miss with this is the sucker with the bread to buy it.

I put the rifle back down; it didn't belong to me. I wasn't sure who it did belong to, but that wasn't the point.

I sighed and straightened, turning back toward the women. It looked like there was more to worry about than guns anyway. I had a bad feeling about this.


	18. Chapter 18

Freedom

Chapter 18

Velvet left the two young women where they stood and returned to me, switching on her ear piece. "All clear up there?"

"Yeah."

"Looks okay."

"Bring it in." She paused beside me – but not too close – and turned to look back at the newcomers. "Well. I hope my words aren't all I'll eat today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who are they?"

"One minute." Velvet watched the Biker and Sagaris make their way toward us. She took out a calorie bar and unwrapped it, eyes distant.

"What are we dealing with here?" Sagaris took the magazine out of his HK91 and checked it, then met Velvet's eyes. "Kevorich's?"

"Do they look like Kevorich's to you?"

"Not really, no." He thumbed a round into the magazine and put it back, shouldering the weapon. "What's their story?"

The Biker looked solemn, but expectant. Velvet shrugged. "Apparently they're somebodies. They're on the run."

"On the run on the outside?"

"Yeah. They're sisters. Their parents had private security trying to ensure their safety. The plan was to stash them here where no one would look. Apparently there's a safehouse way out on the frontier where they were supposed to lie low."

"Where?"

"Only the bodyguards knew, and they're aren't telling."

"Why didn't they just fly there?"

"Think about it."

"This sounds like a pretty ill-conceived plan." I couldn't help myself. "In fact, it's just asinine."

"It wasn't my idea," Velvet said, sounding a little defensive. "Anyway, maybe the plan was workable, but I guess they picked the wrong people to bring them in."

"Same guys that did for me," I said.

"Is that why you took off like that? If you want a piece of them, just lure them out. Deal with them on your terms. But not right now."

I supposed not. Velvet was thinking a lot straighter than I was.

The Biker cleared his throat.

"Yeah," Velvet said, waving a hand. "I'm getting there." She took a breath. "We are going to go ahead and look after them."

I don't even want to talk about the way we all reacted to that. Other stalkers might have been excited by the prospect of being in the company of women, but the Biker, Sagaris, and I knew better. We also knew that we didn't have a say in this, and that with the bodyguards obviously dead, there really was no other choice.

Velvet held up her hands in a calming gesture. "There's an upside. Like I said, they're somebodies. I don't know the details – I don't keep up with the outside world – but if we can get them to a secure uplink in one piece, they're willing to pay us for our trouble."

The Biker snorted. Of course Velvet would have protected these girls for free – but there was an opportunity to get something out of it, and she'd pounced. My faith in her abilities as a commander were growing. There is a great deal of opportunism in good leadership.

I shook my head. "How do they know you won't kill them after you've bled them?"

"They don't. But they have to trust me. It's not like they have a choice."

I thought about that. She was right, of course. And I was pretty sure Velvet could come across as sincere when she wanted to. It had to help that she was female. Velvet turned her gaze to Sagaris. "Go over there and get them to put on a couple of those coats. We can't have them walking around looking like that."

"They're coming with us?"

"Damn right they are."

"Couldn't we put them somewhere?" the Biker suggested.

"We could, but then I'd have to leave someone with them – someone I trust. I don't know who that would be, and it doesn't matter, because my forces are not such that I'm comfortable dividing them." She met the Biker's gaze. "We have a long trip ahead of us, and they're going to be there."

"It's time to check logistics," he replied firmly.

"Agreed." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Go." Sagaris nodded and started off. "Oh," Velvet said, turning to him. He stopped and looked back. "And no looting."

"What?"

"They're in a fragile state of mind. The bandits won't have anything worth taking, but those two security types have some choice gear – leave it."

"Why?" Sagaris looked irked.

"Because those two may have known those guys personally. You're not going to loot them in front of them, they're not going to travel with you when you're carrying a dead man's gun."

"I am carrying a dead man's gun."

"Yeah, but they don't know that. We need to be mindful of their psychological state," Velvet said patiently. "Lest they become difficult." Her delivery was deadpan, but I had to look away and stifle a laugh. It was times like these that made me wish I'd known Velvet before whatever had happened to put her on edge for every second of every day.

"Fine," Sagaris spat, and stalked off toward the women.

"All right. Let's talk business." Velvet went down on one knee, and the Biker knelt beside her. She took out her PDA and called up a map. "What do you think?"

"We'll go over the top to pick him up, nobody's charted those hills and I don't want to bother with them. It's been a while since the last emission, so I think we should risk the roads while we can, especially when we dip south," the Biker said, pointing to the map. Velvet only flinched a little.

"Yeah. We can skirt the compounds, make the Nabakov round, and it's clear from there to the channel. Now we need to visit an uplink."

"That's always dodgy. They never last long."

"I know. I say we cut north and try Kevorich's."

"You sure?"

"Why not? We'll have to keep a low profile, but we can do that. Right?"

"Maybe." The Biker didn't look thrilled. "If that's no good, Watchtower should have one too. I don't know if they'd be game. They haven't been very local lately. You might be able to buy some time with it."

"I was thinking the same thing. If it doesn't pan out, we'll check with them." She outlined the route on the map. "What do you think?"

"It'll do."

I looked over at Sagaris and the girls. The younger one already had on the dark brown coat of one of the bandits – the one I had shot. The coat gleamed wetly with blood, and there were several holes in the back. Her sister – her older sister, I guessed – was holding up the green coat and eying it with distaste. Sagaris looked like he was having some trouble staying patient. From what I'd seen, I thought the girls were coping.

"…few more stops than I like." The Biker was saying.

"I thought you liked road trips."

"I do when there are wheels involved."

"Well, excuse me, princess." Velvet glared up at the Biker.

The Biker groaned in disgust and turned away, folding his arms. Velvet did the same with an audible: "Hmph."

Sagaris was approaching with the girls, both now shrouded in bandit coats. "Hoods up," Velvet said. "Unless you want to be stuck behind a gas mask." She tapped the one around her neck. "You can take it from me that it's not in your best interests for it to become widely known that you're female."

Purple raised hers without a word. Her impassive expression didn't flicker. Her eyes were large, but hooded, giving the impression that she was half-asleep. Half-asleep, and fully apathetic to everything around her. The filthy, bloodstained, bullet-perforated coat didn't seem to bother her. It was warmer than what she'd had on before – maybe that was it. Her older sister wasn't taking quite as well to the grubby fabric – but she was being stoic about it. Her nose wrinkled, but she pulled up the hood, throwing her face into shadow. I blinked. She looked familiar. Really familiar. She caught me staring at her, and I gave her a reassuring smile – then realized she couldn't see it because of my mask. I turned to Velvet, who turned to the girls.

"Staying alive is simple – in general you don't want to make loud noises or do anything unexpected. You want to do anything any of us tells you to, no matter how strange it seems – you don't need to worry, my men are perfect gentlemen." She gave us a dangerous look, then rubbed her hands together and turned south. "Now. We're behind schedule."


	19. Chapter 19

Freedom

Chapter 19

Distant stalkers were chattering on the open channel, but I wasn't listening. Our party of four was up to six, and we were on our way to add even more to the group. Sure, the girls were baggage, but there is undeniable strength in numbers. Just having them with us increased our ability to deter attack by quite a bit. Sagaris had them both carrying the pump shotguns taken from the bandits, though he'd emptied them. We didn't want these girls accidentally blowing one of us away – but if someone was looking, they'd see two more guns to deal with if they wanted a piece of us.

Ahead, the cliffs loomed. We were south of where the Americans and I had been ambushed, but I was on my guard anyway. Since neither Velvet nor the Biker could be bothered to fill me in on the details, I had only a vague idea of our destination and objectives. I couldn't complain. We had a nice, big group. It was cold, but not too cold. We weren't getting rained on. Nobody had shot at me yet today. Sagaris walked at my side, discreetly watching the girls, who were just ahead of us. The voluminous bandit coats didn't give us much to look at.

"What do you think about this?" I asked quietly.

"I think it's been a long time since I've gotten laid," Sagaris replied without hesitation. Don't ask me why, but with his Russian accent and tired expression, that struck me as enormously funny. I hid my smile. "What do you think?"

"The same thing," I admitted. "But we're supposed to be gentlemen."

"I am a gentleman," Sagaris sniffed.

I had to fight another laugh, not because I doubted him, but because the oddest things sound funny with a Russian accent. You had to be there. He just looked so serious. Anyway.

"I think this is dangerous for all parties."

"No choice, though."

"No," Sagaris agreed. "No choice."

I switched off my earpiece and looked up, then back. I didn't see any crows; that was a relief. "Did you catch their names?"

"No."

"They have no idea where we're going, what we're doing. They're totally lost. Their lives are in the hands of people they've only known for a couple hours. They must be pretty tough."

Velvet was suddenly beside us. "I get the impression they've had a rough couple of weeks."

"If they're scared enough to try to hide in the Zone, somebody has to be trying to kill them. I believe it."

"They aren't the targets, their parents are. They just wanted them out of the way so they couldn't become leverage."

No matter how you looked at it, it was a grim picture. I didn't even want to know the details.

We reached the cliffs in the early afternoon. Down this far, they were much less friendly than they were farther west. It was more or less a sheer face, dotted with highly-anomalous looking vegetation.

"How's the radiation?" Velvet asked, gazing up.

"Not bad," the Biker reported, putting away his counter.

She turned to us, looking thoughtful. Her eyes settled on me. "Mist, you get the honor – no, the privilege – of doing the climb."

"Me?" I pointed at myself.

"You've got a light build, you're dressed for it. You're the obvious choice." Velvet motioned to the Biker, who handed me a coil of climbing rope. "Get up there and tie the line, then keep watch while the rest of us come up."

"Oh, hell." I took the rope, grimacing. I'm actually a capable climber; the problem was that this wasn't a rock wall in a gym, it was the real thing. There was no harness, and there was some really suspect-looking plant life growing on the rock, and who knew what else. I handed my pack to Sagaris, slung the rope over my shoulder, checked my carbine's harness, and wondered what it felt like to fall to your death.

It was about a seventy-foot climb, made longer by some irregularities in the rock. On the bright side, there would never be any shortage of hand or foot holds, but that was small comfort. I could see black openings, and I couldn't help but wonder what was in them. I checked my Glock and my knife, and realized I was stalling. I caught Sagaris' eye.

"You are the ninja," he said, shrugging. I rolled my eyes and started to climb. It was easy at first, mostly because there's no feeling of peril when you're only ten feet up. Past that it started getting harder. While there were plenty of things to grab onto, quite of a few of them were not strong enough to support me, and crumbled when I put my weight on them. That made for a couple of heart-racing moments.

I was also careful to give a wide berth to both openings in the rock and any plant life, neither of which I was keen to get familiar with. I was about halfway up before I started to get tired. My muscles burned and ached. I was in good shape – great shape, really – but you don't get this kind of workout in a gym or in day to day life. On the bright side, if I hadn't been in as good of shape as I was, I probably wouldn't have been able to make it to the top at all.

At one point my Geiger counter started going crazy, and I had to sort of shuffle over horizontally. There was something intensely radioactive, maybe buried in the rock face, but I had no way of finding out what it was. I kept climbing.

The others were silent below. Calling to me wouldn't have done any good; I didn't need encouragement, and I definitely didn't need a reason to look down.

I reached the top and started to clamber up, but froze. Not even five meters away sat a stalker. He was big and burly, but tattered. His armor had to have come from Duty, but there were several bullet holes in it, and it didn't quite fit him. Scavenged or stolen. All identifying marks had been removed or covered. His back was to me; he didn't seem to know I was there. I hadn't been taking any particular pains to climb quietly, but I'd been moving slowly enough that a great deal of noise hadn't been needed.

The stalker sat on a low rock. I searched for any possible companions, but found none. My gaze fell on a bundle of weapons lying on the ground. Rifles without magazines were tied together with straps so that they could be easily carried. There were probably a dozen in total. A lot to carry.

The strain on my muscles was painful. Too painful. I couldn't just hang there. I hauled myself up. The stalker heard me and turned, but I got my Glock out of its holster and pointed at him, though I was still on my hands and knees. "Easy," I gasped, and he halted, expression serious. He didn't have a weapon in his hands. A bullpup I didn't recognize lay close at hand.

I got shakily to my feet. "I don't want trouble," I said, for lack of anything better. I wasn't up to fighting, and he could see it. There was a predatory light in his eyes. There was no evidence to support it, but I suddenly knew with certainty how he'd come by those rifles. "Just stay there," I said. "We'll be on our way."

He didn't. He took a step toward me, his eyes sliding over my gear. He liked what he saw, and just as my instincts told me what he was, his senses as a predator told him I was weak from my climb. I took a step back, knocking a few pebbles from the edge. I realized the danger and took a step forward, putting both hands on the gun and getting ready to shoot – but he wasn't going to let this go on. He lunged.

It wasn't a bad idea on his part, especially not against someone as exhausted as I was. How could he know, aside from my vaguely ninja-like appearance, that I was an accomplished martial artist? He was too close to shoot, and there wasn't much I could do with the situation – fortunately, the well-known Judo sacrifice throw exists almost explicitly for times like these.

I grabbed him and dropped to my back, planting my boot on his chest and sending him on his way almost entirely by his own momentum. It would have been all well and good if it had ended there, but the sacrifice throw also leaves the thrower with a fair amount of backward inertia, exacerbated by the aggression of the attacker. As the bandit sailed over the edge of the cliff, I rolled right off after him.


	20. Chapter 20

Freedom

Chapter 20

I did, of course, manage to grab something – if I hadn't, I wouldn't be talking to you now. My vision swung wildly, and I saw the body of the bandit, and my five companions. It didn't seem like he'd flattened any of them, but I didn't get to look for long, because my hand was tingling something fierce.

The vine I was gripping did not look healthy. I was wearing gloves, but that didn't matter. I could feel the plant through them, though I wasn't sure how. It was warm, and wrong. The sensation defied description, and it was all I could do not to just let go and fall. The panic from touching that anomalous vine was much worse than what I'd felt going over the edge, and it let me forget all about how my body was way past its limits. I got to solid rock handholds and managed to clamber over the top. Only then did my exhaustion catch up with me.

I collapsed onto the stone lip of the cliff, breathing raggedly. I pulled down my mask for more air, and tried to put my thoughts in order. No – no time. I sat up and tore off my glove to examine my hand. The skin of my palm, just a patch in the center, was discolored – right where my contact with the vine had been tightest. I didn't feel anything now – nothing out of the ordinary, at any rate. I probed at the patch of affected skin, but it didn't hurt. It wasn't even tender. It felt normal, but it was darkening visibly.

I swallowed. This couldn't be good.

But I had a job to do. I used an alcohol swab to try to clean my hand, but the stain wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't surprised. I used some sanitizing gel, then pulled my glove back on. Leaving my carbine leaning against a rock, I found a boulder with a suitable outcropping and tied the line to it. After making sure it was secure, I flung the line over, and went to the edge to wave down. That done, I picked up my AK and stood watch. I could hear the line whisper along the stone, so I knew someone was climbing up.

It turned out to be the Biker. "You're such a drama queen," he said as he came over the top. I ignored that. He set his feet and grasped the line. I saw it go taut, and he began to help the next person by pulling them up.

"I killed two people today," I said without turning around. "Is that normal?"

A long pause. The Biker continued to pull. "Yeah. I guess."

I sighed.

Velvet came over next. They tied a loop into the line and lowered it so that the women could, one at a time, step into it and be hauled up by the Biker and Sagaris. It took less time to get them all up than it had for me to climb it. My world for a Batman-style grappler gun.

Once we were all assembled, Velvet gave me the eye. "Did you aim that guy at me?"

"No."

"You'd better not have. I suppose it couldn't be helped."

"He wasn't responding to diplomacy."

Velvet yawned. "That will happen," she said. "Nicely done."

"I hope our friends weren't too traumatized."

"I got the younger one to look away in time." Velvet shrugged. "They're still in shock from the ambush. They're sheep for now. Tomorrow they'll be a handful."

"I can hardly wait," Sagaris said dryly.

"Is it really safer up here?" I asked Velvet.

"A little," she replied. "But it's not about safety. We're going across."

"Oh." I turned to look south, out over the bluffs. Easy trails, by the look of things. Walking across some rocks I could handle. I wouldn't have minded a little time to meditate, but Velvet didn't seem interested in taking a rest.

Walking through the grass in the Zone could never be entirely relaxing. The grass could be hiding anything from anomalies to bandits to mutants – but up here that wasn't an issue. We were exposed, sure – but this was the closest to a casual stroll I'd had in a while. Hopping lightly from rock to rock came easily to me, even as tired as I was, but the girls were having some trouble. Sagaris looked chagrined; Velvet was covered in shapeless fatigues, and the voluminous bandit coats took all the fun out of seeing women jump around. I felt the same way, but I could meditate to put it in its place; Sagaris had nothing to do but be irritated.

But even the bluffs weren't totally safe. Our Geiger counters occasionally clicked, and at one point I saw a line of ants that looked entirely too large. Something like fifteen minutes later, Velvet let out a cry of alarm and dodged back from a crack in the rocks, her pistol in her hand so fast I could hardly believe it. It's a little known fact that Velvet has faster draw than I do, even faster than the Biker's. Now that gun was trained on the crack below.

"What is it?" The Biker racked his shotgun and joined her.

"I don't know." She didn't look away, instead taking out her flashlight and moving forward to crouch, shining it down. We gathered around. I couldn't see anything down there but rock and lichen. "Take this." She handed her MPL to the Biker, putting the flashlight in her mouth and reaching up to tie back her hair.

I had a flash of intense foreboding. "No," I reached out to grab her shoulder. Velvet knocked my hand so savagely that I had to take a step back. I was looking at the muzzle of her 9mm Steyr. She'd had the trigger half-pulled before she caught herself. A long moment passed before she looked away. "I'm not asking you to do it," she muttered around the flashlight, lowering herself into the crevice.

There was no helping it; she was determined. Grimacing, I watched her worm her way down. It would have been a fascinating sight if not for the frustratingly loose fatigue trousers. I wasn't sure how far she'd get; she was smaller than we were, but there wasn't a lot of room to work with. That was just as well; I was convinced there was something dangerous down there with her. I was glad she hadn't asked me to do it. I can do tight spaces, but it's not my first choice.

The Biker was thinking similar thoughts. He looked grim as he leaned the MPL on his shoulder, jerking his chin at Sagaris, who hefted his rifle and moved off to stand watch. I checked on the girls; they were looking on detachedly. They were in shock, but they were coming out of it. Velvet's prediction that we wouldn't have to worry about them until tomorrow might have been optimistic.

"Got anything down there?"

"I don't know." Velvet was wiggling her way back out. She looked troubled as she lifted herself out of the crevice. "I don't like this."

"Well, what did you see?" the Biker pressed.

"I told you , I don't know!"

They glared at each other. I cleared my throat. Velvet scowled and looked at her watch. "We're behind schedule," she said, and snatched back her MPL before stalking off south. I raised an eyebrow, and the Biker gave me a look. I was glad he couldn't see my smile behind my mask.

I was relieved. Something told me that Velvet's little excursion into the rock could have ended very differently. I didn't know what was going on, and I didn't want to – but it didn't alter the fact that something was happening in the Zone. I was only on my fourth day, but I could see that much clearly. The Blood Demon. The statuettes. Now things that even seasoned stalkers couldn't identify. Stalkers don't give a lot of thought to what's happening underneath their feet when they walk the Zone's roads – maybe because they have other things on their minds, or maybe because they don't want to.

Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't there. The Zone was no stranger to change. But were these oddities really just a normal part of its evolution?


	21. Chapter 21

Freedom

Chapter 21

At first I thought he was a boulder; it wasn't until he moved that I realized otherwise. Velvet didn't show any surprise, and neither did the Biker. Purple and her sister, in shock or not, were visibly intimidated. Even Sagaris swallowed.

The Merc had been sitting with his back to us, watching the sunset. As we approached, he got up. And kept going up. I had to really look up to see this guy. Even without heavy boots, he had to be pushing seven feet. I didn't even want to guess his weight, but it was all muscle. He had on muddy camouflage, probably over some kind of armor. A matte-black AWM sniper rifle was slung over his shoulder, and an H&K UMP45 hung on a harness similar to the one I used with my carbine. I guess that was his idea of a sidearm. This guy could have carried a lot more without a problem, I was sure.

He was square-jawed, and his blue eyes looked out with a vaguely hostile flatness that I doubted anyone could meet for long. A change came over his face when he saw Velvet. I don't know what it changed from or to, only that it did change. If anything, now he looked even more dangerous.

We'd been crossing the rocks all day, and compared to the excitement earlier, it had been pretty sedate. Suddenly it wasn't. This guy scared me at least as much as the dead Blood Demon. Possibly more. But he had to be the guy we were here to meet, which at least suggested he wasn't the enemy.

He stared at Velvet. Velvet stared back. Everybody stared at him. The older sister had somehow gotten behind Purple, and was peering at the Merc over her shoulder.

"You look surprised."

"I am surprised." The Merc's English was good, but his Russian accent was noticeable. I often found Sagaris' accent comical in contrast with the things he said – but I had a feeling I wouldn't be finding much of what this giant said humorous.

"It's really me."

"I can see that."

"I have work."

"Obviously."

"I know you don't pledge – but I need you for a couple of days at least."

"I'll pledge."

It was difficult to tell if Velvet or the Biker was more shocked by this statement. The whole exchange struck me as pretty bizarre, but that was because I had no context for any of it. Velvet opened her mouth as though to make inquiries – but she evidently decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She collected herself quickly, shrugging. "Okay – uh, obviously I'm glad to hear that." Eyes still locked on the giant – and with an expression I didn't know what to make of – she spoke to the Biker without turning to him. "Run the plan by him," she said.

"Right." Biker took out his PDA, and Velvet turned and started away, looking truly thrown. I wanted to laugh – I'd never seen her like this before.

"Why would he pledge?" she wondered aloud, though quietly enough that only I could hear. She paused beside me.

"Why wouldn't he?" I glanced over at the Merc and the Biker.

"Because he doesn't. You think something happened? Maybe he has an axe to grind with Duty," she mused.

"Velvet," the Biker said, and she hurried over. I watched the three of them convening over the PDA. Well – I couldn't complain. Having this big scary Merc with us couldn't worsen our situation, could it? I figured he had to be worth at least ten normal stalkers. With that in mind, Freedom's ranks were growing pretty fast. Sagaris and the Merc on the team, the Biker and myself on the payroll – Velvet was building quite a little force.

Moving around with seven people – that had to be pretty safe, right? Even the bravest blood drinker won't jump such a large group. Things were looking up. Sagaris, me, and the rest of the B-list waited while the cool kids figured out what to do, and then we were on the move. We had come here to meet the Merc – I knew that now. Velvet must have called him out, and doubting, but hopeful that it was really her, the Merc had showed up.

I had only a vague idea of where we were going, but now we were heading east instead of south. That meant we were heading into the Zone itself, rather than just passing through the outskirts. So far I'd been spoiled by the frontier – most of my time had been spent where things were mild and friendly. Not anymore. But for the moment we were still on the bluffs, and there was nothing to fear up here. The only thing that bothered me was that we were running out of daylight.

Getting down from the bluffs was surprisingly humane; the eastern face was much friendlier, and it was less a climb than a hike. I was curious about why the Merc had chosen the bluffs as a place to meet, but I wasn't going to ask.

Soon we were back on the ground, and things were noticeably different. The Zone was like a miasma, and being on the bluffs kept us above it – but now we were in the thick of it.

Velvet turned to me, her hand on her earpiece. "Take care of the channel. I want to listen to music." Without waiting for a reply, she took off her earpiece and pulled on a pair of headphones. Well, I didn't really mind. I tuned my PDA and switched on my own earpiece. There wasn't much of a signal until we got farther from the bluffs – but once we were in the tall grass, the broadcast was crystal clear. I listened to the stalkers on the air gossiping with interest. The major topic of discussion was the crudely-carved statuettes that people were finding all over the Zone. Apparently someone had left one in the Bar at Rostov, and that was causing some anxiety.

Northeast the lightning had started up again. Periodic flashes lit the horizon white and pink. I wanted to see it up close. If a storm could be this spectacular from this far away, what would it look like if I was actually there? No – that wasn't it, though. The draw I felt wasn't just the curiosity of an idle tourist. I glanced at the people around me. I wondered if anyone else could feel the pull. It had been weak on the frontier, but now it was getting stronger with every step.

I looked at Velvet, who was walking out front, framed against the storm. This was all business as usual to her.

It was a peculiar sensation to walk with a storm ahead and the sunset behind, all in perfect silence. For just a moment, I had a vision of a thousand stalkers walking with us, a ghostly army marching through the grass as lightning streaked the sky ahead. Then it was gone. I shook my head to clear it. Sagaris' hand was on my shoulder. I brushed him off. My right hand was tingling where I'd grasped the anomalous vine earlier.

"I'm fine." I turned up the audio and listened to the stalkers. A pair of lookouts somewhere were arguing about something they might or might not have seen in the channel. Someone else was putting out a regular broadcast, trying to reach someone in Pripyat. No one ever replied. A trader in the rookie village down south was offering a job to anyone who happened to be in the area, and a handful of mercs had an automated message advertising their services. Maybe that was why the Merc had joined Velvet so readily. There was next to no work for men who didn't want to go to Duty these days. Maybe he was on hard times.

I looked back at the giant. It didn't look like he was. He looked well-fed, and exceptionally well-equipped. No, something told me this man did not lack for money. I followed his gaze, which was fixed squarely on Velvet's back. I didn't have the whole picture here. You'd think I'd be used to that by now, but I just felt left out.

No one on the channel was saying anything. I could hear the Merc and the Biker talking.

"Where is Stranger?" the giant asked.

The Biker stopped walking. Velvet took off her headphones, looking at them questioningly. "She's dead," he said finally.

The giant absorbed that. "She?"

The Biker looked away, shrugging. Velvet's expression was grim. Reading between the lines, I guess they'd lost a friend or ally. I was a little surprised to hear about yet another woman in the Zone, but hey – it had to happen from time to time.

Sagaris, the sisters, and I watched the three of them. No one said anything. Welcome to the Zone. Ask about a friend, get a reminder of loss and mortality. The place where somber moments spark like powder and fade like smoke. I didn't want to be the one to break the silence, but I didn't have a choice.

I switched off my earpiece and caught Velvet's eye. "Blowout."


	22. Chapter 22

Freedom

Chapter 22

You know how it is – when you're just walking through the Zone, there's shelter everywhere. Big concrete pipes, buildings, whatever. We've all seen that boxcar just sitting out in the middle of nowhere. No train tracks in sight, no explanation of how it got there – but they're out there.

But when there's a blowout headed your way, suddenly there's nothing. Nothing but open country. It never fails.

Velvet took it better than I did. So she's twitchy when people get close to her, but she knows how to stay cool when it really counts. "How long?"

"They're saying twenty minutes at most."

The Biker shrugged. "Plenty of time."

"Only if they're right," I pointed out, but he waved me off. Velvet looked to the Merc, who nodded, turning to point north.

"Can't be helped." Velvet shrugged.

So we followed the Merc. I didn't know if this was his territory or what, but he seemed to know his way around. He wasn't hurrying, but even when someone that tall walks slowly, they're moving pretty fast. We all had to struggle to keep up now that he was the one setting the pace.

I'd expected a cottage – or something. Something small. Our destination wasn't small. I wasn't even sure what it was. A big structure set into the hillside, much of which had been paved over. At the bottom was some kind of culvert, though there was only a little water in it. The place was about as industrial as you could get, but it had seen better days. I didn't know what it was doing out here in the middle of nowhere – if the culvert meant there was an underground river, then it might have been a part of the Pripyat water treatment system.

We paused, and Velvet took out her binoculars. "What do you know about it?"

The Merc shrugged. "Sometimes mercs roost here."

"I don't see any sentries."

"They'd be inside, wouldn't they?" I looked at my watch, then at the sky. It might have been my imagination, but it looked a little red.

"No, they'd be out until the last second, watching for people like us." Velvet bit her lip, readying her MPL. "No choice. We walk in like we own the place."

We headed down the hill, which grew steeper as we went. Fortunately, there were railings in place along concrete walkways, though they had seen better days. A catwalk bridged a row of drainage troughs, leading to what appeared to be the entrance. There were exterior staircases going both up and down. No one shot at us. There was a low rumble in the distance, but Velvet held up to the side of the threshold. There were no real doors – just doorways, leading into total darkness.

"The sun's going down." She looked over her shoulder at us. "We'll have to set up here for tonight anyway. Merc, clear up and keep watch. Biker, go around to the other side, and hurry. Sagaris, with me and the girls. Mist, lower level."

Just as I'd been getting used to the safety of being in a group. I groaned, but nodded, turning and heading down the metal staircase. That wasn't much fun. It clanked loudly with every step, and wobbled – it was held to the building by nothing but rust.

I reached the bottom, which overlooked the culvert. It was something like a twenty-meter drop, so I made a point of not getting too close to the railing, which didn't look very reliable. This probably wasn't the lowest level, but it was as low as I was going to get from the outside. I didn't think Velvet wanted me to go all the way down to the culvert and poke around the tunnels down there.

Ahead, the walkway ended abruptly. It had collapsed, and there was an impressive gap. Nearby was a door that had once been white, but was now splotched with brown rust. It had been jammed shut with an old AKM.

If you think Mist should enter the building here, turn to page 103.

If you think Mist should try to jump the gap, turn to page 40.

Author note: Hey! This chapter is in Choose Your Own Adventure format; unfortunately, I can't really post the rest of it here, since you have to navigate around. If you want to read this chapter in its proper format, visit pseudozone dot blogspot dot com – if you don't want to do that, it's cool, Chapter 23 will be back here like normal.

Thanks for reading – don't forget to leave some feedback or send an email or something; I like to hear what people think.

Wish


	23. Chapter 23

Freedom

Chapter 23

It was awkward. Everybody else was hiding in the secure room at the end of the corridor, and I was standing knee-deep in bodies, spattered with blood. I didn't let anyone see the mark on my hand.

No one said anything to me. That was good; I needed a minute. The Biker and Sagaris came out to secure the hall. We'd probably drawn out all the infected, but who knew what else lurked in the building. The others found a room that would be easy to defend, and set up there. Once things calmed down, Velvet found me.

"Should I ask?"

"I wouldn't."

She sighed, but let it go at that, turning away. I reached out to stop her, but remembered that probably wouldn't go over well. "Wait," I said instead. She looked back, and I started to tell her what I had seen underground – but she stopped me.

"The Biker should hear this too."

I wasn't feeling very sociable, but I sat down at the lantern with the others, who were eating. I wasn't hungry, but they needed to know this. I watched Purple nibble at a calorie bar for a moment, then started talking. "I ended up in the culvert before the blowout, I had to go in the drain. There's a room down there with three bodies and a lot of blood. They hung the guys up and cut their heads off." It occurred to me I probably shouldn't say this in front of Purple, but it looked like she was in her own world. The sister was watching me intently. There was no mistake; I'd seen her before somewhere. I pulled up my mask and looked back at Velvet. "There was some kind of altar."

"Rocks?" That came from the Biker, and I looked at him in surprise.

"That's right."

"Did you see a statue?"

"No, but I wasn't looking."

He shook his head in disgust. "Who are these guys? You used to see stuff like this once in a while, but now you can't take a goddamn step without finding signs of them."

"They're Duty's problem for now," Velvet said. "But all the same, in the morning we should get down there and check it out."

I shook my head. "There's something else, something big. We don't go down."

"A giant?"

"Yeah, but not the kind you mean. I don't know what it was – but we don't want anything to do with it. This thing could go toe to toe with the Blood Demon we saw. We need to get away from here as soon as it's light."

"I'll buy that," Velvet said, nodding.

"Where are we going?" I asked her bluntly. She seemed slightly taken aback. Maybe there was something in my voice she hadn't expected. My hand throbbed. I wasn't myself.

"From here," Velvet said, still eying me curiously. "We cut through the lowlands and head for the channel."

I nodded. That was straightforward enough.

"We can do it in a day if we don't get held up," the Biker added. "There are drinkers down there, but we've got enough of a group that they won't give us trouble. Shouldn't be anything to worry about but the slog."

I'd had enough. I got up and left the room. It wasn't a very good idea – but nobody stopped me. I wouldn't have.

We had set up on the upper level, and I went out into the open air. They say it always feels good after the blowout, but I wasn't in the right state of mind to appreciate it. I took some deep breaths and tried to put my thoughts in order. I took off my glove and flexed my hand a couple of times. It seemed all right. If you're wondering why I lost my cool with the infected, I can tell you.

You probably know about how the infection was, in the great scheme of things, not a big deal. It didn't do what its creators wanted it to, but it did have its moments. I was there for one of those moments, and it didn't leave me with favorable feelings regarding the infection, the infected, or the people who had brought the whole mess about.

Now that everyone has easy access to the proper vaccinations, the infection is rapidly becoming a memory – but it still exists. Some say the retrovirus is evolving, and that the vaccine can't protect everyone – I don't know about any of that, I'm not a virologist. Anyway, a lot of infected people end up in the Zone. Nobody knows why. There are theories – like the Zone itself somehow nullifies the vaccine – but I don't know what to believe.

I don't know if it was the hand or my own memories that set me off in that corridor.

The spot hadn't grown visibly. It was inky black now. This couldn't be good.

I didn't feel like going inside, but I didn't want to just stand there, either. I headed down the exterior stairs, not really sure where I wanted to go. It wasn't the safest thing to be doing, but in my state of mind, rather than worrying about the Zone, the Zone should have been worrying about me.

I went down to the ground floor and shone my light in. I'd never gotten a look in there, but that didn't bother me. I turned and headed across the catwalk, but stopped when I heard a splash from below. I'd left my carbine in the building. I was too out of sorts to be bothered by that. With my hand on my Glock, I crept to the lip of the wall to look down into the culvert. There was no shortage of moonlight – in fact, it was uncannily bright – so I could see clearly.

There was a man in the water, sitting with his back to the wall. He was breathing heavily. On the far wall, some armor and an old rifle lay in a pile. He got to his feet and moved away from the wall. I could see he was pretty young, probably around my age. His t-shirt, soaked with sweat, read MORTON SALT in big, friendly letters.

He started to climb the ladder on the opposite side of the culvert. He hadn't noticed me yet. I thought he was going to get his gear, but apparently that wasn't the plan. He walked about ten paces back from the edge, then turned. He couldn't miss me now – but he wasn't paying attention. I watched him sprint forward and leap.

The culvert was far too wide to jump. He struck the wall below me with a painful sound, and slid down into the water, splashing onto his back. Was this what I had heard?

"Hey," I called down. "The ladder's right there." I pointed.

"Don't need it," the stalker in the Morton Salt shirt panted. He sounded American. Doggedly, he staggered to the opposite ladder and started climbing up.

"Are you trying to jump this?"

"Yeah."

There was no time to say anything else; he was sailing toward me. I winced as he struck the concrete and slid down, groaning. This time he sat down again, trying to catch his breath.

"Can I ask why?"

"Have to," he gasped, looking dazed.

"You see that drain over there?"

"What about it?"

"There's something pretty dangerous," I said. "You shouldn't be down there."

"He's not my problem." Looking determined, the stalker got up and tried again. This attempt didn't go any better.

"So – uh, you're pretty serious about this."

"Yeah." He was already climbing up for another try.

"Well, maybe I can help."

"Don't need help." He turned around to face the gap, slapped his cheeks and shook his head. "Move."

"You're not going to hit me," I assured him.

"Your funeral."

He jumped. I winced again. "Come on," I called down. "I can catch you and pull you up. Maybe."

"I said I got it, man."

"It's the only way it's going to happen, bro."

"Then there's no point, friend."

"Why not, pal?"

"Because if you don't do it yourself, it's no good, buddy."

"Then you're never going to make it, neighbor."

"Then that's on me – uh, dude. Can we stop?"

"Yeah."

He jumped. Ouch. I sat there and watched him two more times, then got to my feet. "Look – my friends and are camped out in this building, so try not to startle us when you get across, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"And it looks like we're headed for the channel. If you're going that way, you should join us. It's safer in a group."

"Hey, I appreciate that – but until I get across this," he paused, readying himself for another jump. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Suit yourself." I turned and headed across the catwalk, back to the stairs. As I climbed, I heard another thud from below.

"Ow," floated up on the wind. I shook my head and went back up to join the others.


	24. Chapter 24

Freedom

Chapter 24

My fifth day in the Zone started with a bang. A literal one; I sat upright, instantly awake. Sagaris' hand fell on my shoulder.

"Relax," he said. "It's the Merc."

"What's going on?"

"Somebody saw our light and camped out there. Wanted to get us coming out. Merc's on the roof killing them. We just have to wait."

"Merc on merc violence," Velvet said, shaking her head. "What's the world coming to?"

Another shot echoed out over the valley, the sharp blast of the Merc's AWM. "That's two." Sagaris yawned.

"They like to do four man teams these days. It used to be three, but these are dark times. He'll get one more, the last one will panic and run," Velvet said knowingly.

"Shoot him in the back." Sagaris went to the window and peered out. "I think I see one."

"Get him," the Biker said without hesitation. He was still lying on his back, eyes closed. I watched Sagaris put his rifle to his shoulder and lean out, then pull back.

"He spotted me."

"Get down."

The stalker did, but nobody shot at him. Several more seconds passed. I carefully rose to a crouch, making sure everything was accounted for. I picked up my carbine, though I had no intention of using it. Sagaris crouched beneath the window. The AWM boomed overhead, and he got up to look. "Damn." He brought up his HK91 and fired several shots. "Merc only winged him."

"You get him?"

"Yeah."

"Should be one more. Wait it out, no hurry." Indeed, Velvet did not look at all worried. She had a shard of mirror out, and was examining her reflection. The bruises on her face were starting to fade. She wrapped the broken bit of mirror in a cloth and put it away, getting to her feet and picking up her MPL. She switched on her earpiece and listened to something on the air.

Now the Biker was getting up. He rubbed his chin and scowled. "Is there time for me to shave?"

Velvet waved at him distractedly. I watched him draw his combat knife, and pour water over it. Was he really – yeah, he was. I thanked my genes that I'd never have to shave at all, much less with a combat knife. It just wasn't a good idea. And where had that knife been? It looked clean, but still.

The fourth and final shot came.

"Ow," the Biker said. He'd flinched and nicked himself. He should have seen that coming. A moment later, there was a clatter as the Merc descended the exterior stairs. He came inside, carrying his rifle.

"Done?" He nodded. "Worth looking at?" Velvet asked. He shook his head.

"That's what you think." Sagaris headed out, looking determined.

"Pack it up, people. Mist, get the girls."

"Aye aye."

Velvet pointed a finger at the Biker. "Cover that up. You want to go into the lowlands with an open wound?" It wasn't necessary; he was already applying a bandage. I patted myself down to be sure I had everything, then headed over to the girls. The older one was holding Purple.

"Time to go. You need anything?"

Purple didn't reply. The older one stared at me. Annoyed, I pulled up my mask and gave her a warning look. I didn't want her placing me until after I'd placed her. "Come on," I said to Purple, jerking my chin at the Merc. "As long as he's around, what have you got to worry about? All you have to do is walk. Are you hungry?"

I think my efforts to seem nice and cuddly helped a little, but it was going to take more than kind words to erase the image of me standing in that corridor, surrounded by corpses. They were both scared of me. They were both scared of everybody and everything, except maybe Velvet. I thought that was a good view to take, considering.

There was no sign of the Morton Stalker when I got outside to check. He and his gear were gone. I hoped he hadn't hurt himself too badly.

My hand wasn't bothering me, and I was in pretty high spirits once we got going. Frank hadn't been kidding when he warned of the slog. The rolling hills quickly gave way to a misty bog, which was not at all enjoyable to cross. But these were the lowlands, and in a group, this was the safest and quickest way to reach the channel.

Trust is something of a commodity in the Zone, and because of that, stalkers rarely move in large groups. We didn't expect to run into anyone down there, but we did. It wasn't exactly an ambush. The Biker and the Merc tensed just moments before the men began to appear, hazy outlines, indistinct in the low fog. There were about half a dozen of them, and I didn't have to be able to see them clearly to know they had their weapons trained on us.

Sagaris swore quietly. These stalkers had appeared out of nowhere, not silently, but the fog interfered with sound. Nobody said anything. What needed to be said? Sudden moves weren't a good idea. Slowly, Velvet pulled up her gas mask to cover her face, and moved her MPL to hold it where it obscured her chest. It wasn't perfect, but the fog was getting thicker. The Biker turned, and I followed his gaze.

A figure was making its way toward us, hands raised. The others were holding their positions. We were all covered. Sagaris stepped between the girls and the guy coming at us. We all had weapons in hand, but we didn't have a prayer of raising them.

Sagaris swore.

I understood his feelings. I've done my research. I know Duty armor when I see it. I eased my safety off, looking to the Biker. He gave a minuscule nod. Things didn't look good, but I had a couple of things up my sleeve. Literally.

The man emerged from the fog. He wore light Duty armor, dark gray and black, with red trimmings. He wore no helmet, his short brown hair was more or less in order, and he was clean shaven. He had a presentable face, normal enough, but something about him chilled me. I didn't see a weapon.

As he neared, the tension left the Biker – then returned. He shifted his stance, ever so subtly. The Merc didn't move.

"Fancy seeing you here," the Duty man said, surprising me with a crisp British accent. "And you," he added, looking up at the Merc. He was right on top of us now. He paused in front of me. "I like your mask," he said, then turned to look up the hill at his men. As he did, I saw the CZ 100 holstered in the small of his back. "I suppose we do look a little scary from down here," he said, giving me a smile. "But don't worry, we won't hurt you." He turned to the Biker. "We just couldn't help but be curious about such a large group. Especially at this time of year."

"We're just walking."

"I can see that." The Duty stalker took a few steps to stand in front of the Biker. "How've you been? I hope you aren't still sore over our little disagreement."

"Which one?"

"Either one."

"Do I look sore?"

"Hard to say." The Duty man put his hands on his hips. "Introduce me to your friends."

"Just freelancers. Looking for work."

"We've got work."

"Not that work."

"Let me refine the terms of my search." The Duty man's eyes were very cold. "What work are you hoping to find in a bog?"

"We're going to Kevorich."

"That wasn't so hard."

I let a knife slide out of my sleeve and into my hand. If the Duty man took another step toward me, I'd have him. If I could take him hostage, maybe we could get the ball rolling in a healthier direction. I'd seen the way he was looking at the girls. They were hidden by the coats, but he was suspicious. One very short stalker in a group was one thing. Three was going to draw attention.

I noticed the Biker's hand moving. He was making sharp, but minimalist motions at me with his left hand, which hung at his side. He didn't want me to do anything. I wasn't sure what to think, but he'd been in the Zone longer than I had. I decided to trust him. I eased the knife back out of sight.

"I lied to you, Biker." The Duty man held up his hands as he made the announcement. "It wasn't the group that made me stop you guys." He pointed a gloved finger at the girls. "It was the coats. You know how it is." He shrugged, stepping past the Biker, but turning to face him as he walked backwards. "I try so hard to be a liberal progressive, but at the end of the day, I still have prejudices. You don't mind if I look, do you?" he said, and grinned. He faced Sagaris, who stood between him and the girls. "How about it?"


	25. Chapter 25

Freedom

Chapter 25

All hell was about to break loose. Either Velvet or the Biker was going to shoot this guy. The Duty men would open fire, and we'd scramble for what meager cover there was, but it wouldn't do any good. Bunched up, with nothing but low ground, caught in a crossfire, we'd be lucky to take even one of the Duty shooters with us. Like that movie – the one where Ed Harris is the sympathetic bad guy, and the special forces guys are in that, like, prison shower? And they get gunned down in there? It was going to be like that. I was going to die in this foul-smelling bog, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could keep my own finger off the trigger, but I couldn't speak for anyone else.

The man from Duty lifted Purple's hood perhaps an inch, and stopped. No one moved. After a long moment, he let go and turned away, his demeanor noticeably different. If I had to put it into words, I'd say he went from scary to very scary. He turned to the Biker.

"Is work really so hard to find?"

"It's not what you think."

The Duty man searched the Biker's face for a long time, then turned back to the girls. For the better part of a minute, he seemed deep in thought. Finally, he faced the Biker again.

"I intend to pay Kevorich a visit soon. When I do, if she's there – or you are – you won't have time to give your side of the story."

"I thought Duty didn't interfere."

"Duty doesn't. I know we aren't on good terms, but I'd hate to have to kill you." He said all this very flatly, sounding almost disinterested. "I like to think there's someone out here with some sense." He clapped the Biker on the shoulder and stepped past him, but turned back. "Oh," he said. "You haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary in these parts, have you?"

"Take a look in the drains under the plant west of here," the Biker replied, utterly deadpan.

The Duty man departed. No one relaxed until he reached the top of the hill, and his men could be seen pulling back. Sagaris let out a long breath.

"You know that arrogant bastard?"

The Biker nodded, staring after the Duty men. "This is not good," he said finally.

"What are you talking about?" Velvet pulled off her mask. "We got by, didn't we?"

"Don't think he didn't recognize you," the Biker said, shaking his head. "Because he did."

"Impossible. He'd never have let us go."

He shook his head again. "You don't know him."

"Well, if there's someone in Duty who doesn't have a problem with me, I don't have a problem with him."

"He doesn't have a problem today." Frank looked grim. "I was hoping he wouldn't stay with them this long."

"What was he doing out here, anyway? Seven is an awful lot for a patrol – and I thought they were shorthanded."

The Biker rubbed his eyes and shrugged. "They wouldn't waste him on patrol. They're out here looking for something."

As we moved on, I wasn't thinking too hard about what the others were saying, I was just relieved to have gotten out of that situation alive. The Zone is a big place, but it's a small community. Even smaller, now that the whole Railgun debacle had decimated the Stalker population so severely. Of course there were new idiots coming in every day, and just as many idiots dying every day. It would be a while before the Zone felt full again. So of course you were going to meet people you knew. It wasn't clear to me what kind of relationship the Biker had with the man from Duty, but it didn't seem entirely friendly.

The girls were shaken by the incident; they probably didn't understand it, but they'd been able to feel the tension in the air, and subsequent relief. Sagaris was looking at his PDA.

"How are we doing?"

"We're just south of the forest. We might want to cut south just a little."

"No, stay on course or we won't make it by nightfall." Velvet looked north. "Shouldn't be much to worry about here."

"Except Duty patrols," Sagaris snapped.

"They weren't supposed to be here," the Biker countered. "They're on a special op. There won't be any more patrols."

"Then we're clear to the channel?"

"Of course not."

"But they say the mutants are mellow here," I said.

"Anomalies," Velvet cut in. "Some of the most powerful in the Zone. Also some of the best hunting."

"Isn't there a safer way?"

"Six in one, half dozen in the other. This gets us there the fastest. Watch your step, kid." The Biker caught Purple's arm and kept her upright. "What the hell is that?" He was looking south, toward the plateau. I turned to look. They were a long way off, but the sight was unmistakable. A thousand crows circled.

"That's what you expect to see over the forest," Velvet said, sounding curious. "I wonder what's going on up there."

I wondered whether or not I should share my thoughts on crows. They were far off, and we were moving in the opposite direction. I didn't think it would be a problem – but I felt a chill all the same.

"Have you ever been on the plateau?" the Biker asked.

She shook her head. "Up until Railgun, the Military had a big lab, one of the last ones still running. Nobody ever got up there."

"You thinking about it?"

"Not really. No land access."

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked.

"Where to set up shop," the Biker said. "There used to be a Freedom stronghold not far from here."

"It's going to be somewhere on the Western frontier," Velvet promised. "We need that land access, and we can't give Duty too many options."

"I thought the plan was not to fight Duty."

"Things don't always go according to plan." Velvet paused and adjusted her beret. "That Duty man back there, what's his story?"

"He used to be BKA. He killed somebody and came here. His partner followed him to bring him in, but got killed. He's a mess. Name's Dieter."

"I've heard of him," Sagaris said. "He went by a lot of names. I think it's Ever these days. Not what I pictured."

"Why Duty?"

"The Zone is changing because of Railgun. Maybe he wants a front-row seat."

"He'll have it," Velvet promised. "We all will."

Yes, the much-discussed changes. The Zone's ever-growing borders, the worsening mutants and anomalies, the more frequent emissions, the mystery of the statuettes and the bodies that went with them. Would Duty finally solidify its reign, or would someone stand up to them before it was too late? Would that someone be Velvet and Freedom? The bandits? The mercs? Would Clear Sky return from their self-imposed exile? What of the alliance, all of whose leaders had mysteriously disappeared after Railgun? I didn't want to think about any of it.

Guesses and predictions. None of us had a clue what was coming. Velvet didn't realize that the Zone she knew – or thought she knew – wouldn't be around much longer. Neither would Duty, and neither would I. My hand twinged, and I slowed down to get to the back of the party. Once no one was looking, I took off my glove and rubbed my palm. The spot hadn't changed. I knew it wasn't doing any good, but I used an alcohol wipe on it anyway.

"You all right?" It was the older sister. It was the first time she'd actually spoken to me. I had my mask up, so all she could see were my eyes.

"I'll live," I answered, and sped up. Where had we met? This was getting frustrating. I dropped back and fell in beside her. She seemed taken aback, but didn't flinch, or move away. I eyed Purple's back for a moment, then pulled down my mask and spoke very quietly. "Where did we meet?"

She looked over at me with a thoughtful expression, then took down her hood. "You don't remember?"

"I guess not."

"Benefit in LA. You were presenting."

I thought back. "Because my old man couldn't," I said after a moment. "Right?" She nodded. "And you were there to make a donation?"

She smiled. "My father couldn't make it."

"One brat to another, did I catch your name?"

"No, we just shook hands. I smiled. You didn't."

"I didn't want to be there."

"Neither did I."

"You're more dutiful than I am."

"I guess so." She gave me a very small smile, and pulled her hood back up.

"Jesus Christ, when was that?"

"Last November."

I rubbed at my eyes. "Jesus Christ," I repeated. This was only day five.


	26. Chapter 26

Freedom

Chapter 26

Duty. They were out there. Before, they'd been a name without a face, they hadn't affected us, hadn't mattered. That dream was over. They were real, and they were scary. The Biker hadn't been afraid of Ever, but there was no question that he took the Duty man seriously. That couldn't be a good sign; the Biker didn't seem the type to feel threatened by just anyone.

We had veered off course, and gotten closer to the trees. The bogs made for such slow going that Velvet preferred the risk of the forest. Once again, it felt different here. The Red Forest was two or three hundred meters off, but it felt closer. The trees were taller than I expected. It was dark, even though it was only afternoon. I felt a pull. I wanted to see what it was like in there.

"What?" Velvet's exclamation was so vehement, they probably heard it at the old cordon. Or even the new one. Everyone stopped and looked back. "Check your map," she ordered, pointing to the Biker. Frowning, he took out his PDA and powered it on. A moment later, his eyes widened. "What's going on?"

"They say satellite images don't work anymore." Velvet pulled off her earpiece. "That there's some kind of interference."

I took out my own PDA.

NO SIGNAL

I still had access to the airwaves, and the Stalker BBS. The network was a little sluggish, but everything seemed fine. Except for the map.

"Did it ever update after that last emission?" Sagaris asked. Now he had his out too.

"What does this mean?"

"It means that until it's back up, we're navigating by memory and compass," the Biker said. Licht had remained silent and expressionless. I would have liked to hear his take on the matter, but apparently that wasn't his style.

"It means we won't know about changes from emissions," Velvet pointed out. "Our route could be compromised. We need to slow down."

"We can almost see the channel from here," the Biker countered. He pointed west. "There's rain coming – what do we do if the water level rises?"

"Then we wait it out."

"We should go now."

"We shouldn't be rushing into anything."

"We don't have to rush, we just have to move. You can't linger by the forest like this."

"Fine."

They started walking, and I fell in beside Sagaris. "How big are the changes?" I asked.

"What?"

"After an emission. Can so much really change?"

He nodded. "Stay alive. You'll see."

That was uncharacteristically cryptic. I let it go.

We weren't as close to the channel as the Biker thought. Had he exaggerated, or had the Zone changed? There was no way for me to know, and I didn't think it was a good idea to ask. I imagined how it would feel to be second guessing myself every time something seemed out of the ordinary. Was my memory playing tricks on me? Or had it changed? Did I remember the way wrong? I shuddered, thinking about it. The Zone just never gets tired of finding ways to get to you. It's the ultimate troll.

The channel was lined with industry and civilization. All of it led, eventually, to Pripyat. Our route was through a residential sector, wide streets lined with the enormous tenement buildings that characterized this area before the Chernobyl incident. They were holding up pretty well, despite everything. They were still white, sort of. Still mostly intact.

Rusty metal squeaked. We were passing an old playground. There wasn't much left. A slide had rusted through. A swing hung from one chain, the swing itself dragging in the mud. A little horse on a spring had lost half its face, and its remaining eye gazed at the road. I looked up at the crows lining the power lines.

How long does it take to turn a city into a graveyard? Two years later, Velvet would be asking the same question. And this was nothing compared to what we would see in Pripyat, even sooner than we expected.

Now that we were among the buildings, no one seemed keen to talk. Even the sound of our boots on the debris covering the road seemed to echo.

"Does this ever change?" I asked. "I can imagine little things out in the wilderness, but what about these big buildings?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," Sagaris replied, turning to look over his shoulder. "You never hear about Pripyat changing. Or the plant."

"Don't be so sure of that," the Biker said.

Velvet groaned. "I don't know what you think you saw," she said, sounding irritated, "…but Chernobyl hasn't changed."

"You want to go there and make sure?"

"Not on your life."

"I wouldn't mind, though."

"What? Going back?"

"Not that. If it wasn't true."

Velvet shook her head in disgust. "I don't think you ever made it to the center at all. Some anomaly just got the best of you. You hallucinated."

Biker didn't bite. "I don't think so."

"Then where's the world peace?"

He smiled at that. "I wished for something else."

"Did it at least come true?" Velvet asked dryly.

A pause. "No."

"Great."

I'd never seen the channel. I'd never cared about the channel. It hadn't been part of the Zone until recently, and it hadn't been an issue long enough to get much discussion online. But now the cordon was well on the other side, and it was right in the thick of things. It was bigger than I expected. Wider, faster-moving, darker. It was a long, long way to the other side. It occurred to me I still didn't know why we'd come here. The sun was sinking, but it wasn't full dark yet, which meant we'd made pretty good time. You'd have thought that would have improved Velvet's mood, but it didn't.

"Still a ways to go," she announced over her shoulder, and set off north.

It was surreal. On one side, a dark expanse of water, and on the other, an even darker wall of industry. We stayed in the shadow of the flood wall; there was no sense being more exposed than we needed to be, and there were an awful lot of windows looking down on the channel. As we followed it north, I eyed the dark hulks in the water. Capsized and abandoned vessels, some of them quite large. Not far away, a line of half-sunken barges formed a sort of bridge that stretched almost halfway across. They were overgrown, which probably meant that when the water level was higher, they would be completely submerged.

"Are we going to cross?"

"Only about halfway," Velvet replied distractedly, taking out her binoculars and scanning the tenements looming on our left.

Halfway? What?

There were cracks in the seawall, and we had to climb down and wade through icy water. It was getting dark again. Never a break in the Zone; group or no group, no matter where you are, no matter how safe – you can't stop nightfall.

"What was that?"

Sagaris stood on a bit of rubble not far away, gazing out at the channel.

"What?"

He pointed. "There. There's something in the water."

"Let's climb up," Velvet said. I was surprised she took his word so seriously; it was easy to see things out here. But it was dark enough that we wouldn't be sniper bait in the open unless someone out there had some pretty fancy optics. Walking along the wall was easier than wading through the shallows, though it still felt exposed.

"I heard blood drinkers liked these urban areas," I said, fingering the light on my chest, but I didn't switch it on.

"They used to. Then Railgun happened. Now there aren't enough stalkers to keep them fed. They can't wait for us to come here anymore, they have to come to us." The Biker looked down at the dark waters. "But there have been stories of something in the channel."

I didn't want to know, so I didn't ask.

"No moon tonight."

"No, and there'll be rain before morning."

"Is the map back yet?"

"No."

"Damn it all."

I listened to their voices in the dark, keeping my eyes on the Merc's back. His collage of camouflages blended well in the dark, but it was hard to lose track of something as big as he was.

"We should be seeing it by now." Velvet sounded concerned.

"Maybe the lights are off."

"That would not be a good sign." She stopped, and I nearly bumped into her. "Should be around here."

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"I think we can't see it like this."

"Can we risk a flare?"

"If we move fast, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Do it. Everyone get ready – follow my lead," Velvet said. I heard her shift her MPL. The Biker snapped something shut and raised his arm. The flare was blinding. I should have known better than to look at it as it went up. The Biker had aimed it out over the channel, and now I saw why.

The ship was huge. It was an abandoned derelict, but still upright, likely caught on something. Now I knew what Velvet had meant when she said halfway.


	27. Chapter 27

Freedom

Chapter 27

The flare was high overhead, and we could see clearly, for the moment. Velvet started off, and the rest of us hurried to catch up. I remembered what she'd said about following her exactly – but I didn't get her meaning until she ran out onto the water. Well, she didn't really run onto it – there was something about a foot underneath that she was running on. The Biker splashed down after her, and so did Sagaris. The sisters held up for the same reason I did. The Merc was behind us, and he gave me an encouraging shove.

I grabbed Purple by the shoulder and stepped down, bringing her with me. By the feel, I thought we were walking on some kind of pier. It didn't feel very stable, but we were falling behind. The older sister was making her way ahead of us, and I wasn't going to let her show me up. I started forward at a hesitant trot. The light from the flare was starting to fade. We'd already given ourselves away – where was the harm? I hit my light, which lit up the others almost immediately in front of us. I skidded to a stop, nearly losing my footing. We were probably forty meters out into the channel. The shape of the ship was still quite a ways off.

The Biker was hauling on a rope.

"It's still here," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Turn that off." I did so. My night vision went with it. For a moment I couldn't hear anything, just the faint sloshing of whatever the Biker was doing. Purple was holding my hand. I was feeling a little lost myself, so I let her.

"Something's wrong," the Biker was saying in Russian, probably to Velvet. "He would have seen that. Can't he at least put a light on?"

"Maybe he's asleep."

"Not likely."

"Hey, watch it."

"Nobody shot at us when he had his light on."

"You know, I think I saw somebody moving around on the deck while the flare was up."

"Are you sure? Who was it?"

"How should I know? Look how far away we are," I replied.

"Maybe he's powering up the generator."

"Do you need some help?"

"I've got it. Is somebody watching the back?"

"Naturally," the Merc rumbled.

"It's almost here."

"If there is something in this water, this is not the best place to be," Sagaris said worriedly. I could hear him turning left and right, trying to watch both directions at once.

"If it's as big as they say it is, it won't matter if you see it coming," Velvet said. I swear, she's got a cruel streak. Sagaris started swearing under his breath. Maybe he really had seen something.

There was a clatter. "Let's go."

I followed the others into – something. It was so dark that I couldn't really see what it was, but I'd gotten the idea. It was a sort of ferry, roped to the distant ship with a pulley and a couple of lines. Its floor was beneath the water, and our weight sank it further. It seemed to be roughly pyramid shaped, but with all the sides opened. Once we were all in, the Biker began to pull us along. It was slow going.

Gradually, my night vision was beginning to return. I could see the ship looming ahead, and the black channel all around us.

"I always like a good on rails sequence," I said. Purple turned and looked up at me, then shook her head. "Just trying to make conversation." She let go of me, so maybe I'd put her at ease. There was still a long way to the ship, but it was looking bigger and bigger. I dug through my pouch for my binoculars, and scanned the upper deck. It was too dark to see much, but nothing appeared to be moving. It was very quiet.

It took a full ten minutes to reach the ship. If there was a channel monster, it decided to let us off, because nothing happened. The Biker tied off the ferry, then started up a ladder on the side of the hull. Velvet followed, and Sagaris went after her. I told the girls to go next, and the Merc and I were last.

The ship rested at a slight angle, but the deck was dry. Velvet was looking back over the side. "Everybody?"

The Merc clambered over, nodding confirmation. She did a quick count, and seeing that we were all there, turned to look up at the wheelhouse.

"Something's definitely wrong," the Biker said, moving to the opposite rail and peering down.

"Let's check it out. Biker, Mist, with me. You two mind the deck, keep an eye on them," she said, pointing at the girls. "I'm on point, Biker on me, Mist, hold it together."

I didn't even get to reply. Velvet started up the steps, and the Biker was right behind her. She exchanged her MPL for his shotgun, and they headed in. I followed, eying the wheelhouse. It would be tight in there. I drew my Glock and checked the chamber.

It was as cramped as I feared. I considered the wisdom of having Velvet out front – she was, after all, the brains of the operation. But she was also the smallest, and easiest to cover. We all turned on our lights. With the Biker's cruiser raised, Velvet moved at a pretty brisk pace.

Black stairwells led down into the ship, but she passed those, leading us to stairs that took us up. She barely paused at the second deck, but stopped on the landing, cupping her hand to her mouth.

"Friendlies," she called in Russian. Her voice echoed through the metal halls. The ship groaned and shifted beneath our feet. I eased back down the steps and shone my light down the nearest stairwell. It was a mess down there. The Biker was poised at the top of the stairs, the MPL in one hand, his Pernach in the other.

Velvet swore. "Let's go." I hurried up.

The room was quite spacious, and had obviously been used as a living area. There was a cot, trunk, and other amenities. In the daytime, this room at the top of the wheelhouse would have had a very nice view of the channel, and the shore on either side.

But there was nobody there. Velvet panned her light around, frowning. "Anybody see blood, casings? Watch the hall, Mist."

I left the room and listened to them talking inside.

"Nothing." The Biker picked up an AK from the floor, giving it a quick check. "Looks okay – it hasn't been sitting out like this for more than a few days." He raised an eyebrow. "Old age?"

"If he left, he left without his weapon. I don't know how likely that is." Velvet came back out into the corridor, looked in either direction, ignored me, and went back inside. "What could have happened to him?"

"Maybe the channel monster got him."

"Be serious."

"He left his money? Can we take it?"

"Not until we know he's dead. We need his help, remember?"

"Good point. Where are the charts?"

"I found some over here, but I can't read them."

"Figures."

"There's some water in his shaving bowl, but it's freezing."

"Does he even have a heat source?"

"Last time I was here he had a little stove. It's probably in another room."

There were sounds of rummaging. "What's this?"

"How would I know? Is it an artifact?"

"My detector's not getting anything from it. Put it back."

"Sorry. I have Viking ancestry. I like to pillage."

A laugh. "Well, do we need to search the ship?"

"I'd rather not. You know how big this thing is?"

"Yeah."

"We'll move around the first level, call out to him, make some noise – if that doesn't draw him out, then something must have happened to him."

"Yeah."

"Then we'll pillage."

"Yeah, but then we're also kind of screwed, right?" Velvet and the Biker came back into the corridor. Once again, ignoring me completely, they started back down the stairs.

"It's not ideal," Velvet said. "But we'll have to just go. I guess we should probably stay here for the night."

"And if it rains and the water level rises?"

"Then we'll use one of the boats."

"I forgot about those. Can we all fit?"

"Probably. Me and the girls are small."

"Yeah, but the Merc's big."

"It's not even raining yet."

Half convinced that I'd become invisible, I followed them back down to the others. We spent about a quarter of an hour doing what Velvet had suggested. In pairs, we moved around the main deck, calling out to someone – I still didn't know who – and searching for any signs of what might have happened to him. We didn't find much, but we didn't cover a lot of ground. The ship was a wreck, claustrophobic and dark.

But as big as it was, sound carried. If this guy was aboard, whoever he was, he could not have failed to notice us. Velvet even let off a blast from the Biker's shotgun, which echoed off the bulkheads for at least ten seconds.

The guy was just gone.


	28. Chapter 28

Freedom

Chapter 28

Well, I was ready for a break. We hadn't done anything that day but walk. There had been the thing with Duty – and of course the shooting that had woken us all up, but otherwise it had been, for the most part, peaceful. Just a quiet stroll through the Zone. Okay, a quiet slog through some truly unpleasant wetlands, but it still beat getting shot at. No mutants, no anomaly disasters – it really hadn't been so bad.

And now we were out in the middle of the channel on this ship. I didn't know what to think of all this channel monster business, but I wasn't too worried. The ship seemed like a pretty safe place to be. The others ate, cleaned weapons, and chatted about stuff that was totally alien to me. It was getting late, and we were all tired, so a rotation was agreed on, and most everyone tried to sleep.

My hand was bothering me, so I went out onto the deck with my pack. To my surprise, the older sister was already outside, though it was bitterly cold. She had the bandit coat wrapped tight, and the hood up.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. Just not tired."

I sank down against the railing and turned on my light. "Was your old man with Wainwright?" I asked.

"No," she replied, turning to me. "No, he's Paricia."

"Was he involved in the infection?"

"I don't know. I really don't."

"But someone thinks he knows something. That's why they sent you away."

She nodded. "Yeah."

Well, it finally made sense. I still couldn't quite remember meeting her, or her name, if she'd ever given it. She probably hadn't. "For how long?"

"A couple of months at least."

"What about now?"

"I don't know. I don't know if we're any safer out there than we are in here."

"If someone thinks they can use you to get to your dad, the whole world's going to be looking for you."

"Yeah."

"Does he actually have the formula?"

"No."

"You would say that."

"I would."

"You can trust me."

"I have to trust you. What are you doing?" She came over and sat down beside me.

"Just taking inventory. I've been using stuff as needed, and I want to know what I need and what I've got." I rummaged through the pack. "I'm doing okay for food, but I need drinking water. I have medical supplies. I need bullets. I might want to get some batteries for my lights."

"You could get all that in about five minutes at Wal Mart."

"And this is the one place in the world that hasn't got one. But there are places to trade."

"Like where?"

I thought it over. "There's a trader in the rookie village to the south, and there's a small freelance settlement in the forest. There should be someone at Kevorich, and there's always the Bar. The settlement on the frontier is gone now, and there's no Freedom base, so that just leaves Duty, and they're out."

"You people keep talking about Kevorich."

"It's just a place where people gather, kind of a base camp. Similar to the Bar. It got bigger during the incursion, because the Bar was being occupied, and there was nowhere else to go." She stared at me blankly. "Take my word for it," I said. "Anyway, people assume you two are here to go to Kevorich, because – well, let's talk about that some other time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I thought you said you hadn't been here long."

"I did research before I came."

"What the hell are we doing on this ship, anyway?" She shivered. This was the situation where you take off your jacket and put it around her shoulders, but I didn't have one. And she was already wearing one. But it was that situation exactly.

"I don't know. They were looking for someone. He's not here. They never tell me anything."

"So what will we do next?"

"My guess? Kevorich is closest – it's up north along the channel. Maybe halfway to Pripyat. Maybe they'll want to go there and see if they can find out where he's gone," I said.

"That's not good for us."

"What do you mean?"

"I agreed we could pay you – the blonde. You know?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I can only do it from a secure uplink, and she said we could find one at this Kevorich place."

I held up a hand. "Relax. She's not going to just waste you after you pay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Cooperating's our only chance in either case."

"That's pragmatic."

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"Was it true?"

"What?" I asked, checking my carbine.

"What you said about why you came here."

"It was."

"No makeup, no showers. No bathrooms. Everybody trying to kill everybody. I don't think we're cut out for this. And those infected. I'd only heard about them."

I thought that if she could sum it up that coolly, she was cut out for the Zone. But I didn't say anything for a minute. "You can try getting out and going to ground somewhere else. If you pay her, Velvet would be happy to escort you to a way out."

She frowned. "One thing at a time."

"Yeah."

"Seems like you're taking to it. What you did to all those infected – that was inhuman. And you threw that guy off that cliff."

"I didn't want trouble with that guy," I pointed out.

"Well, he got it, didn't he? Does everything in this place have to be so old and broken down? This ship gives me the creeps."

"It's been cut off for decades."

"It feels like it's about to fall apart."

"Maybe it is."

"So you're just going to bum around with these people for a year? That's your plan?"

"I've been thinking about it. Perspective can change."

She cocked her head slightly. "You're thinking that doing something crazy and risky seemed a lot more important before you actually got here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Something like that. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just because you fit in here doesn't mean you should be here."

It had already crossed my mind. Nothing makes you reflect on the fragility of life more than killing somebody. Especially when it's easy. Anything you can do to somebody else, somebody can do to you. It wasn't the massacre I'd inflicted on the infected, and it wasn't the guy I'd thrown off the cliff. It wasn't even the old stalker I'd killed when traveling with the Americans. It was the bandit I'd shot after the girls had gotten off the chopper. He'd never known what hit him. He'd just been standing there – then he was done. It makes you think. Death is very final.

I really did have something to prove, but did I need a whole year to prove it? I don't like breaking promises I've made with myself, but what good will a promise do me if I'm dead? Not to be immodest, but I hadn't even been here a week, and there had already been more brushes with death than I could easily recall. One wrong step, and that was it.

But we were on a ship in the middle of the Pripyat Channel. More than that, we were in the middle of job – a pretty big job. It wasn't like I could just up and leave, and neither could the girls. Any decisions to do with my future beyond this week were going to have to wait until Velvet got what she was out here to get.

"How's your sister handling it?"

"Better than I am. She's got kind of a bleak outlook on things in general. It's not much of an adjustment for her."

I smiled. "Not very expressive, is she?"

"She's got some growing up to do."

"You're going to need a name."

"What?"

"If you don't want to give your real one – and you don't – you'll need a name. So will she. I call her Purple."

"If she's Purple, then I'm Grey."

"That doesn't make sense – you'd be Brown."

"But I don't like brown. At least make it… Hazelnut. Or something."

"Hmm. Coffee. Khaki. You're not khaki, though. Taupe."

"No taupe."

"Umber?"

"What the hell is umber?"

"It's a shade of brown."

"I don't want one I haven't heard of."

"What about sepia?"

That got me a chuckle. "We can do better than that."

"Chestnut."

"I'm darker than chestnut, though."

"Yeah. Copper?"

"I like that, but I wouldn't be able to hear it without thinking, like, you'll never catch me, coppers."

"True," I admitted. "Russet? Like russet apples."

"That's kind of cute. Not my first choice, but I could live with it."

"Let's go with it."

"You should be Russet, I could be Mist. Mist is girly. Russet sounds like a guy."

"That's the point. And the hell it is."

"Keep telling yourself that. And she won't go for Purple, by the way. We'll have to do better than that. It's too plain."

"Give her a shade too?"

"We should."

"Violet."

"But it's not violet, and that's too feminine – we don't want people know we're girls, right?"

"I don't know any purples."

"You sure knew a lot of browns."

"It's because I once needed a brown suit, and the tailor had all these little cards. I never needed a purple suit."

"Ah. I know purples. Magenta, mauve. Plum."

I shook my head. "I like plum, but something tells me she wouldn't. And it's a dead giveaway."

"Yeah. Um, amethyst."

"Too goth Dungeons and Dragons wannabe."

"That's what she is, though."

"Yeah, but don't encourage it."

She thought it over. I finished re-packing my bag and leaned back against the railing. My hand had started to itch.

"Wisteria?"

"Is that even a color?"

"It's purple."

"No, no, no. Death first. She'd sound like a wiccan witch person or something."

"Yeah. She's not one of those, thank God."

"Lilac?"

"No. Lavender?"

"No. Those are fragrances anyway. And they're feminine. No stalker would call himself lavender."

We sat in silence. This was a lot harder than I would have thought. "Fuchia?"

"No, she'd rather die. Royal?"

"Royal works. I kind of like it."

"I don't know." She frowned. "Tyrian."

"What the heck is that?"

"It's the exact color of her hair, it's what it said on the box when she dyed it."

"I don't know – sounds like the lead guitarist of some Finnish fantasy speed metal."

"She'd like that, though. Nightwish is like her favorite band."

"They're Finnish?"

"I think so."

"Then let's go with that. Russet and Tyrian. Those are proper stalker names."

"Yeah, and Mist. What were you thinking?"

"I was trying to be low key. Stalkers name themselves after innocuous things. Hell, the Biker is the Biker. The Merc is the Merc. These are not creative people."

"Where's his bike, anyway?"

"I don't know. He left it somewhere out west."

"What's a biker without his bike?"


	29. Chapter 29

Freedom

Chapter 29

"Velvet," Russet pointed out. "That's not her real name. That's creative."

"Sounds like an escort," I said. She swatted me.

"I think she's nice."

"You thought she was going to kill you after you paid her."

"I didn't really think that, I just thought I should entertain the possibility, you know? Plan for the worst, not be too quick to trust. I don't know how to do this survival thing. That's why Tom and Rick were coming with us."

"They didn't know how to do it, either."

She sighed. "That's a pretty cold thing to say."

"Sorry. I think this place is making me cynical."

"I can see how it might have that effect on someone."

"You ready to go inside?"

"Yeah, it's cold out here."

We quietly went back into the wheelhouse, where the others were sleeping. Sagaris was supposed to be on watch, but I didn't see him anywhere. My hand tingled. Come to think of it, Sagaris hadn't been around when I'd gone outside, and that had been over twenty minutes ago. I paused in the doorway, Russet just behind me. She tugged at my arm.

"What is it?"

"Where's Sagaris?"

"I don't know."

"Wait here."

I pulled her inside and slipped back out. Sagaris wasn't on the upper deck. I went around the side, but he wasn't there either. At the railing I looked down at the walkway below, but it was too dark. Someone was moving down there. I pulled my light and flashed it down, but whoever it was ducked through an open hatch.

Sagaris wouldn't run from my light. We weren't alone on the ship. You learn to sleep light in the Zone; I had everyone roused in about ten seconds. My hand was completely on pins and needles now, and I was giving orders without thinking about how it wasn't my job to do so.

"Find him. Stay with them," I said, pointing at Velvet. The Merc didn't seem to have a problem; he rubbed at his eyes, picked up his UMP, and headed out. The Biker followed. I took the other door without waiting for a reply from Velvet. Maybe sticking together would have been a better idea – but Sagaris was missing, there was someone else here, and the obvious thing to do was find him. I put on my earpiece and changed to Velvet's frequency. "Where are you guys going?" I asked, clattering down the steps, and entering the main corridor. Moldy pipes sagged from the ceiling, ready to rust through and give at any moment.

"I'll look around up here," the Biker replied promptly. There was nothing from the Merc; maybe his PDA was off.

Velvet said something, but it sounded distant. I tapped my earpiece. "Say again?" Something slammed behind me, and I lit a flare and threw it down the corridor, lighting up the walls with flickering green. "Velvet, check your sound." I looked behind me.

A spike of static. "…hostiles…"

"Biker!"

"I'm still online."

"Where are you?"

"I'm heading for the main junction. I got no sign of anything up here. Are you reading Velvet?"

"No, her signal's messed up."

"She's on the wrong channel. She probably slept on her PDA. Worry about Sagaris, Velvet can handle herself. What did you see?"

"One guy, I think." I put my AK to my shoulder and shone the light down the corridor, beginning to walk.

"Human?"

That made me pause. "I think so."

"Could it have been a drinker?"

"How would it have gotten out here?"

"I don't know – when the water was low. It would explain why our man isn't here. I'm moving into maintenance – where are you now?"

"Just below the wheelhouse."

"Don't shoot the Merc by mistake, he should be close to you."

"How do you know?"

"I heard him walking the corridor over me. There's nothing else out here as heavy as him."

That we knew of – but I didn't say anything, I just turned off my earpiece. I needed to be able to hear, though the only sound was the groaning of the ship. I looked down the hall, then back, then over the railing at the steps leading down. Both the Merc and the Biker were on or above this level, so to the make the most of our limited manpower, it was up to me to keep going down. I jumped the railing and got moving, though the stairs shook and rattled under my weight. I reached the bottom and paused to listen. A strange noise was filling the ship.

It took me a moment to realize it must be raining – and pretty darn hard to be making this much noise. In fact, I'd go ahead and call it a storm. I hoped whatever this ship was wrecked on was stable, because this was the kind of weather you generally wanted to avoid when you were on a boat.

I whirled, but my light showed an empty corridor. Stained bulkheads and dark hatchways, though I was pretty sure I'd heard running footsteps.

As you've no doubt noticed, I brought a lot of things with me to the Zone that most stalkers don't have, both skills and physical objects. Well, I could read the mood. Hunter and hunted are just perspective. Someone down here thought they were stalking me? No. I was coming after them.

I took a couple of steps forward, took a smoke bomb from my sleeve, and flung it through the door I thought was my best bet. It burst with a hiss, and a figure came cannoning out even faster than I expected. I resisted the urge to shoot, and plunged into the smoke. The stairs came up sooner than I thought, but I managed not to fall. I rushed down, listened, and went left.

Not shooting had been a mistake. Something about this situation struck me as wrong, and I thought that if I could take this guy alive, maybe he could shed some light for me. But no – the right thing to do would have been to gun him down. At least that way I could have seen who he was.

I paused, and there was silence. He was hiding somewhere up ahead – but this time I didn't know where. I reached up and switched my earpiece back on.

"Biker," I whispered.

"Mist?"

"I've got one down here, third deck, aft."

"There's one over here, too."

Damn. I'd hoped we were dealing with a single assailant. "You got him taken care of?"

"No, he's lost me. He's still on this deck. We're above you."

"Something's not right, man – these guys have us dead to rights, but they aren't shooting."

A pause. "Maybe they aren't hostiles," the Biker said finally.

"Then where's Sagaris?" I hissed.

"Keep looking." He cut the com. I jerked the magazine out of my carbine, checked it, slapped it back in, and started forward. I was going to kill the next person I saw. I wasn't worried that it would be the Merc; I couldn't fail to hear him coming. I realized I was standing on grating. I turned my light downward, and something moved out of the beam. It was close, but I managed not to fire a shot purely out of surprise.

As quietly as I could, I hung my AK back on its harness and drew a knife. Reaching out, I pressed the tip to the bulkhead on my left. I started forward, pushing the blade along. It made an eerie sound that anyone nearby would be able to hear. It masked the sound of my footfalls, and also created – or at least I hoped it did – a bit of an audio illusion.

See, when you hear a sound like this, you imagine someone dragging the blade along something, not pushing it. Which meant that there was a dissonance between where I actually was, and where the sound would lead someone to expect me to be. I turned off my light and walked in the dark.

It worked almost too well. The tackle was aimed about eighteen inches in front of me. I caught fabric, made sure my grip was good, and smashed the guy face-first into the bulkhead. He crumpled, and I turned on my light.

He was wearing a long, brown coat. It had been brown to begin with, but dirt had darkened it significantly. He was white, and pretty close to my age. Maybe a little older. Maybe even thirty. He looked pretty ordinary, though he needed a shave, and his hair was unkempt. He also could have benefited from a shower, but that's everybody in the Zone.

I dropped and searched him – and there was the real problem. He wasn't carrying anything. No weapons, nothing. I reached for my earpiece to tell the Biker, but someone hit me over the head with something heavy.


	30. Chapter 30

Freedom

Chapter 30

Though I didn't know it at the time, midnight had come and gone. I awoke to day six, finding myself hanging upside down over black water. The blood had gone to my head, which hurt already because it had been hit with something very hard, and I was groggy – so it was several moments before I was prepared to take in my surroundings.

The place was pretty big; it must have been the ship's cargo hold at one time. Half of it was submerged, but that left plenty of space, vertical and otherwise. I could clearly see the rock the ship was hung up on, and it was suitably enormous. There were enough lanterns strung up that most of the chamber was visible, and hooded figures were moving around on the various walkways that networked the chamber.

The ship groaned. So did I. So did someone else. I wasn't alone up here. Grimacing, I looked to my immediate left. Let's see, Sagaris was strung up – still alive, by the look of him. Purple – er, Tyrian – and Russet, too. And there was the Biker.

We were all hanging from chains. It wasn't very dignified, especially for Tyrian, because they'd taken her coat, and she was wearing a skirt. Russet and Tyrian weren't moving, but I didn't see any blood. I was willing to bet our captors had chloroformed them – or maybe just hit them over the head, like me. If they'd been conscious, I was sure they wouldn't be so quiet.

My hands were bound behind my back with what felt like duct tape. I wiggled my wrists a bit, but I didn't think I'd be able to get them loose any time soon. I kept at it, since there was nothing else to do.

I could hear the rain drumming on the hull, and water dripped from the darkness above. Some of the people down there were talking, but we were high enough up that it was only a murmur. I wasn't even sure what language they were speaking, but it didn't sound like Russian.

"Anybody else awake?" I wondered aloud.

"Keep it down. I have a headache." Indeed, Sagaris didn't look so good. He didn't bother to open his eyes. Either the Biker wasn't conscious, or he wasn't feeling talkative. I looked down at the people below. Many were wearing hoods, but not all. They didn't look like stalkers. Stalkers carry weapons, and you usually see bandoliers, goggles, masks, helmets, armor – these people just seemed to be dressed for the weather. Who were these guys?

Well, we were hanging upside down. There was a catwalk nearby, and I could see where this was going. I remembered the scene in the room beneath the facility we'd spend the previous night in.

I was moving. The chains were turning, very slowly – I'd probably gotten it started when I woke up. My field of vision rotated with it. A body came into view. His throat had been cut, and the blood had been used to draw a crude picture on the bulkhead behind. I was too far away, and the lighting was too poor for me to see it clearly, but I thought it looked sort of like a squid.

My gaze drifted down to the people again. I counted them. There were eight that I could see, but there had to be more. The one I'd knocked out wasn't there, and one had left the cargo bay, and another had come in. A precise count wasn't possible.

Velvet had to be dead or incapacitated; the girls wouldn't be here otherwise. Where did that leave the Merc?

I continued to rotate, wondering what it would feel like to have my throat cut. The water below didn't look very inviting. A guy on a high walkway came into view. He was leaning on the railing, staring out at us. Or maybe just at Tyrian. He was one of the few without a hood. Thin face, olive skin. Messy goatee. He reached up and touched his throat, his fingers coming away red. Puzzled, he looked at me, and slumped over without a sound. That was interesting. I looked down to see if anyone had noticed. It didn't look like they had. The chains squeaked, and I continued to turn lazily.

One of the hooded figures in the cluster below broke away. I watched him for several long seconds. He went to the end of the walkway, looked over the railing at the still water, and turned back. Maybe he was listening to the drumming of the rain on the hull, which filled the cargo hold with a hollow, hypnotic sound. Then he clutched his throat and dropped. Nobody noticed. I took another count.

I kept going with the tape on my hands, but I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere.

Two people entered on the third level, and both immediately collapsed. Someone below heard it and looked up, but seeing nothing, said nothing to his companions. A portly guy in a parka – with the hood up – was making his way down the lower walkway. In a moment he'd see the body of the fellow who'd died there. Except the body was no longer there. I frowned; I hadn't noticed anyone moving it – but my bird's eye view was continually changing. When that stretch came back into view, the fat guy wasn't there anymore. Now there were only five people left – and they were all in a rough group, clustered around something I couldn't see. They still didn't realize someone was trimming them down – but it wouldn't be long now.

No – I was wrong. Velvet and the Merc didn't give them the chance; they just attacked. It seemed like the Merc had been hiding in the shadows on one of the upper levels, and Velvet had been below, concealing the bodies of those he shot down. Now he appeared, a big black pistol with a big black suppressor in one hand, and his UMP in the other. With apparent nonchalance, he extended the submachine gun toward the people below, and squeezed the trigger. It was loud.

Velvet also burst from a doorway on the other side of the hold. Her MPL wasn't quite as deafening, but between the two of them, they had the metal walls buzzing, and everybody's ears ringing. The sudden shooting brought people who hadn't been initially visible out of the woodwork. They hadn't shot at us in the dark, but that was because they'd wanted to take us alive – I'd wrongly concluded that they didn't have guns. They did – though it was a motley assortment, and not very impressive.

One moment, silence. The next, firefight, with close to twenty participants. And us just hanging there in the middle of it all. It jerked Sagaris from his stupor, and his sudden motion got all the chains moving. We began to swing in a sickening circle, like the dangly things you hang over a baby's crib. I spotted some people sneaking up a stairway behind the Merc, but he turned and shot them down with his suppressed pistol. Below, the shooting slackened off for a moment – then Velvet finished reloading, and opened fire again. She was behind the door of a steel cargo container, firing blindly. Something zinged off the ceiling overhead. The girls weren't reacting at all, and I had to wonder if they were still alive.

Rather than reloading the UMP, the Merc let it drop on its harness and raised his AWM. It boomed, and a hooded figure toppled from a walkway I hadn't even seen – he had been way up in the rafters, apparently with a knife. The place was swarming with these creepy guys – but it seemed like they were better at being creepy than at fighting.

Somebody's revolver went empty, and as he tried to figure out how to reload it, Velvet heartlessly charged him down and knocked him over the railing. He hit the metal floor two decks down with a crunch, beside a pair of guys ineffectually firing shotguns at the Merc. Velvet's MPL clicked empty yet again, and she pulled her pistol and leaned over the railing to shoot them both in the back. The Merc's rifle dropped one that had been lining up a shot on her, and she ducked into a doorway and out of sight.

A man went over backwards with one of the Merc's bullets in his chest, and he fired his shotgun on reflex. The blast hit something above me, and I felt my chain slip down, then jerk to a halt. This couldn't be good. The support we were all hanging from began to groan. A bullet struck Sagaris' armor, and he winced, bumping into me as we both swung wildly.

"Someday," he said, eyes still closed. "I will look back on this and laugh."

I wasn't listening. Below, a guy running from cover to cover tripped and toppled into the water. The Merc fired three deafening shots so fast that you really had to wonder at his ability to work a bolt. I hadn't heard Velvet's MPL in about ten seconds, and that meant she had to be completely out of ammunition.

Real life isn't like video games – you can only carry so many magazines, and when you're on full auto, they go fast. Another one had gotten behind her, but a moment later he was being used as a human shield. A crash of thunder reverberated through the ship, only slightly louder than the Merc's AWM.

The man in the water had grabbed the grating and was attempting to haul himself up. Velvet and the Merc were occupied, and I was the only one looking – but I clearly saw him dragged back in by something hidden by the black water. The chain chose just that moment to slip and drop me toward that same water, hands and feet still bound.


	31. Chapter 31

Freedom

Chapter 31

You know what I was doing this time last month? I was flying from Vancouver to L.A. for a fighting games tournament. I remember the people at the airport giving me a hard time with my fight stick – but I was able, eventually, to convince them it wasn't a bomb. Some acquaintances of mine met me when I landed, and we got dinner at a restaurant I'd never been to before. It was great. Then back at the hotel, we played Street Fighter for far too long, because we were almost late for our pool in the morning.

I stayed in through the first bracket, but got sent to losers by a lawyer playing Dan. Then some spastic Yang eliminated me. Once I was out, I had time to hunt down some of my friends and get lunch before the Marvel brackets opened. I did a little better there, but you know it's only a matter of time until you run into someone with a little skill, a lot of luck, and Phoenix on his team.

But it didn't matter that I didn't even make top 32. It had been fun – every minute of it. Well, I'd been a little salty after my losses in Marvel, but it wasn't enough to spoil the weekend. I hadn't expected to last as long as I had, and I was pleased on the whole. I stuck around for the rest of the tournament; top eight was hype for both games. It was great.

Now bullets were whizzing everywhere, and I was dropping with dizzying speed toward water which I knew would have been hazardous even if my hands feet weren't bound. It beat the alternative, of course – from this height, the water was the only place I wouldn't break my neck.

The chain jerked to an abrupt stop yet again, and I wasn't sure whether my head or my ankles hurt more. The others still hung above; only I had been affected. I could see a beam up there, halfway bent. I tried not to move, but gravity was doing its job. The metal was ready to give at any moment.

The Merc had stopped firing his AWM; he was probably out of ammunition. Now he had his UMP out, and he was firing on semi. I was swinging dangerously now, and I could feel minute changes in tension in the chain binding my ankles. I didn't have long; this wasn't going to hold.

There was only one thing to do. It was just like being on the swings in elementary school, except nobody called me slanty, and nobody pushed me off. The beam gave even sooner than I thought, but I was lucky. I hit the grating and slid, but managed to stay dry. I struggled onto my back, hoping to do something with the tape and the rough metal I was lying on – but there was a guy in a hood right there, and he had a knife.

Velvet appeared out of nowhere, put a gun to his head, and pulled the trigger. I managed to close my eyes, but I felt a couple drops of blood spatter my face. When I opened them, Velvet was nowhere to be seen, and the body was right there, staring at me with a big hole in his head. Gross. She could have at least paused long enough to help get me free – or at least into cover.

I looked up to see that the others were still up there. Sagaris had dropped a little, but his support was still solidly connected enough to revolve on the crane track. So he swung in a lazy circle, eyes squeezed shut, and I wondered what sorts of thoughts he was having. He'd already been hit once, and though the armor had stopped it, that's never good for someone's mood.

It occurred to me that one hanging figure was missing. The Biker. That son of a bitch – he'd gotten free, but hadn't paused to help anybody else. If I got out of this next five minutes alive, I was going to knock him out.

The hooded folks were finally starting to run out of people. There must have been thirty of them on the ship – thirty people, and we'd thought we were alone. There should be a limit to creepiness. At least I knew the figures I'd seen on deck hadn't been my imagination. That was a cheery thought.

The tape tore, and my hands were free. The right one immediately began to throb – and I was starting to understand why. I rolled aside as a couple of bullets smacked into the grating where I'd been lying. I struggled into the shadows, and a third round hit me squarely in the back. It didn't penetrate my armor, but still drove me to the ground. I wrested the knife from the warm hand of the body beside me and rolled back over only for the guy to fire yet again, hitting me a second time. He was on the walkway across the water, one level up, taking measured shots with a snub-nosed revolver.

I forced myself up, transferring the knife to my right hand and throwing it with everything I had. I don't think I wounded him mortally, but he fell back out of sight, and that was good enough. I leaned forward and reached for the chains around my ankles. I started to struggle with them as the Biker's Pernach opened up somewhere nearby. Somebody – not anybody I knew – screamed, and the tortured metal of the hull gave an extra loud wail, which echoed around the cargo bay. A hot shell casing from who knew where bounced off my forehead.

"Watch it!" I shouted without looking up from my work, but my voice was drowned out by gunfire. I close to getting my right foot free.

There was the Biker – now he was out on the catwalk that led to Sagaris and the girls, clearly intending to free them. Someone below fired at him, and he absently pointed the Pernach down and fired a burst.

Velvet was actually rather close to me, and covered in blood. I was momentarily frozen, because it wasn't clear how much of it was hers. I opened my mouth to call to her, but she dragged herself out of sight. This wasn't going well. I hadn't heard anything from the Merc lately, either. They needed my help.

My right hand, already pulsing, tightened on the chains. The metal began to strain. I noticed that blood had run from the corpse of the man Velvet had executed, and was dribbling into the water.

The entire ship shuddered, and everyone on their feet staggered, like in Star Trek when the bridge takes a hit. I didn't know what had caused that, but it made me to slide down the grating, closer to the hole in the deck. I turned to scramble away, but I wasn't getting much purchase, and a length of my chain was already in the water, weighing me down.

Something moved overhead, and I looked up. On the highest catwalk, far above the fighting, a figure in a long coat was walking. He didn't stop, didn't pay attention to anything that was going on – he just strolled through like he owned the place. Sparks from a ricochet rained on his shoulders, but he didn't even flinch. Then he was lost in the shadows, and the shooting resumed in earnest. The remaining cultists were giving it everything they had – which wasn't much – but even with their ranks devastated, they still outnumbered Velvet, the Merc, and the Biker.

I looked up to check on the Biker. He was lowering Tyrian, and shielding her with his body from the shooters below. But he wasn't alone. There was someone else up there with him – not the man in the coat – he had been tall and thin. This was someone new. I squinted in the poor light. The figure behind the Biker was dressed as a stalker, but very short for one – and slender as well. I opened my eyes to shout a warning to the Biker that there was someone behind him – but the figure had vanished. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but it was really gone.

My right hand had begun to tremble. I almost pulled off my glove to look – but I was afraid of what I might see. I grabbed the chains around my ankles and pulled. A link cracked. I pulled harder, wondering where this power was coming from.

There was another impact, this one much harder than the first. The entire cargo ship wailed under the blow, and bulkhead seals burst all over. The Biker had both girls down, and was clinging to the railing to keep from being thrown off, but Sagaris was swinging out of control – I saw him hit a loose beam with a terribly final sound. It was the same beam I was attached to. It plummeted into the water, throwing up a foamy spray. And my chain went after it, jerked away from my hands and dragging me toward the edge.


	32. Chapter 32

Freedom

Chapter 32

It was probably the first time I'd ever been in absolute darkness. I'd been in the dark before, and this was nothing like it. But I didn't care about that – I cared about coughing up all this water. That took a couple of miserable minutes, during which I couldn't help but flash back to being dragged into the depths and tossed about by the vicious undercurrent. I was lucky not to have hit anything too sturdy.

My body was still immersed – sort of – in about a foot of fast-moving water that was so cold I don't even know how to describe it. I was clinging to a narrow rock ledge. Beyond that, I hadn't the faintest idea where I was. I could hear the water running. It was going quickly, but quietly. And there was something else. I held my breath.

Almost inaudibly, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata filled the space around me. It took a moment for me to realize it was coming from my own MP3 player, in one of my pouches. The cultists hadn't bothered to take it from me; it must have been activated during all the bumping around. I decided not to bother thinking about what had happened – I could think about that later.

I fumbled for the light on my chest, and got it turned on. To my surprise – and horror – it light up dark rock about two feet from my face. I'd known from the darkness that I had to be in some sort of cavern – but this was a bit smaller than expected. Not quite a coffin, but too tight for my liking.

I gingerly turned my trunk to move the light around. There was where the water was coming in, so that was how I'd ended up in here. The chain was still around my left foot, trailing into the water, and no doubt through that hole. The beam was likely wedged somewhere below. If it came loose and sank, I was dead – unless I could get free of it first. I got to work, and it didn't take long. When that was done, I crawled out of the icy water and onto the rock shelf, considering my options. From the pressure in my ears, I knew I had to be pretty far down.

I patted my pockets and pouches. My straight knives were gone. The throwing knives from my sleeves, boots, and thighs were gone. My smoke bombs were gone. All my gadgets were gone. Everything was – even my ration bars. It went without saying that they'd relieved me of my Glock and holster, ammunition, and first-aid supplies. Fortunately, I didn't seem to be bleeding from anywhere – I was just banged up in general.

But they'd left my MP3 player. I hefted it in my palm, then glumly tossed it into the water. Lot of good it would do me down here. I sat against the wall and watched the patterns reflected from the water on the stone wall. It was pretty. But not pretty enough to make me forget where I was, or that my stomach was growling.

Well, the sooner I got moving, the better. Waiting would just make me colder and hungrier, and I'd be MIA with my friends, if they were still alive. There was no going back, obviously. I'd have to fight the current to get out of the underground waterway and back into the channel, but that was beside the point. I didn't remember it clearly. Just a lot of darkness and bubbles – but when I'd been dragged into the water by the sinking beam, I hadn't been alone. There was something else in the channel. Something gigantic.

And it wasn't like I hadn't seen that one cultist get pulled in, because I totally had. I didn't know what was out there in the channel, but I did know that I was going to exhaust all my other options before I tried to swim my way out. And I had at least one option.

The air wasn't exactly fresh, but it wasn't as rank and stagnant as it would have been if I was in an actual air pocket. Somewhere in the dark, downstream, so to speak – there had to be an opening. I adjusted my light and started crawling that way.

What followed was a bit of spelunking that left me with mixed feelings. To my surprise, the opening was on the ceiling of the cramped chamber, and within easy reach. I could fit into it, and there was even a little room to spare, though only a bit. It led straight up about four meters, then went abruptly horizontal. This was a tighter squeeze, and I didn't like it, but I gamely wormed my way in and crawled. It was difficult to get my chest light pointed in the right direction, and often I had no choice but to feel my way through.

I felt excited that I was moving, making progress – that I wasn't trapped. And yet there was no guarantee that this would take me anywhere useful. It might lead me straight to the surface, but would there be an opening large enough for me to get out? If so, that would mean that it was also large enough for something to get in. I simply had no idea. It was an absolute unknown.

Whenever a vent in the rock led upward, my spirits lifted. When the only option was down, they sank. Half an hour after I came to, I estimated that I had climbed up about ten meters, and down another ten, putting me at roughly the same elevation I'd started in. I was at the bottom of a natural rock shaft, which was totally black, and there were a pair of openings for me to choose from – one large, one rather small. I decided to avoid the tight squeeze, and climbed into the large one, which sloped downward. Grimacing, I inched forward, then slid down. It was a natural slide, smoothed out by running water. That wasn't a good sign. Water down here would only happen if the levels in the channel rose – like in a storm. Like the one that had been going on last I checked.

And the water that filled the pocket where I'd awoken? Yeah – the channel's water level was rising. And if the rain kept up, all of this would be submerged. I hadn't gotten moving a moment too soon; I had to stay ahead of the water. I wasn't afraid I'd drown – though that, too, was possible. I was afraid of hypothermia.

I'd regained a measure of body heat with activity and enclosed spaces, but if I had to do any more swimming, I knew it would become a serious problem. Food would have helped, but I didn't have any. I didn't even have the means to start a fire. I mean, the cultists had left me my music, but taken not one, but both of the lighters I'd had with me? They'd gotten exactly what was coming to them.

The cavern dropped away beneath me. The shaft was wide – but I was able to brace myself in it, and move downward a bit at a time. This was muscle-intensive work. I could do it now, but after a day without food? Two or three? I tried not to think about it. Maybe I'd be back on the surface an hour from now.

Some rocks fell away from the side of the shaft, and a full three seconds passed before I heard them hit stone below. Don't slip, Mist.

I continued to ease myself down, thinking about what had happened on the ship, and when I'd started referring to myself as Mist instead of my real name. So the cultists had been there. There had been enough of them that you had to figure it was some kind of base of operations. They'd killed the guy Velvet and Frank had been hoping to meet.

They run around in the dark and take people alive, then string them up by the ankles and let out their blood. They don't shoot until shot at, and don't do a very good job even then.

That was small comfort. They were stealthy; their presence on the ship confirmed that. And worse, they were everywhere. Reports had been coming in from all over, and we'd seen evidence ourselves, even before reaching the ship – so it would have been naïve to think that we'd fallen upon the main nest, or whatever you want to call it.

No, it looked like there really was another faction at work in the Zone. An invisible one.


	33. Chapter 33

Freedom

Chapter 33

I felt like Bilbo Baggins. I'd emerged from a truly claustrophobic shaft into an honest to goodness tunnel. Not man-made, but a tunnel all the same. I had room to stand up straight, and if I reached upward for the ceiling, I found nothing. It felt good to have a little space to move around in. That was the good news.

The bad news was that getting there had been the result of innumerable twists and turns. Where more than one option had presented itself, I had made decisions – and I hadn't made them with any sort of pattern in mind, like always going left. I'd just gone where I felt like.

Before, there had always been the option of going back to the waterway and taking my chances with the channel. That option was now gone, because it seemed highly unlikely that I would be able to find my way back.

The air here was no more stagnant than it had been half an hour ago, which was a good sign. Somewhere, fresh air was getting into this system of caverns. Now, that somewhere could have been a long way off – and likely was – but it was comforting to know it existed.

As I went deeper, my surroundings changed from grim tunnels to a fairytale wonderland. There was phosphorescent fungus growing on the rocks, and the pale light it gave off changed the way I perceived the stone. The tunnel itself was getting bigger, and the fungus let me see just how big.

I found the remains of a stalker, illuminated by a particularly bright patch of fungus. His weapons and ammunition were decayed beyond use, his armor was inferior to mine, and of course, he had no water or rations – not that there was a shortage of water. He did have some medical supplies, still sealed in plastic, which I tucked into my armor's many pockets. The man was little more than a skeleton, but his presence suggested that I was nearing some kind of exit – after all, he'd gotten here somehow, and it hadn't been from the channel. His armor was too bulky. That meant there was another way.

There was a sort of junction shortly after the body – a shaft led off the main corridor, but I decided not to risk it. Maybe that was wrong, because soon, the ground began to slope downward again. After clearing a roomy, but low-ceilinged chamber, I discovered that the floor of the tunnel was rounded and smooth. That meant there had been water flowing here at one time.

At the moment it was dry, but there was no fungus growing below head level. That meant water wasn't out of the question. I sped up. I'd successfully outrun the danger before, but just because there was more space didn't mean I was safe. The water would still be just as cold, and I'd still be just as hypothermic if I had to swim.

My light showed me strange fossils in the rock, and at one point, a huge, white spider. Not as big as the one Sagaris and I had found dead in that structure back at Rostov, but big enough that I walked more carefully after that.

Depressingly, I found myself going lower and lower. I felt like I'd gone down so far I had to be approaching the earth's core. And the deeper I went, the more disturbing the caverns became. I saw strange things. Not the things themselves, but signs and hints. When I peered down a vent in the rock, I saw strands of webbing as thick as my arm. I went in the opposite direction – but there I found a dead end. A dead end with peculiar patterns in the stone walls. I couldn't understand it until I backed up, letting my light illuminate a larger section of wall. The patterns were not, as I had originally thought, some kind of carved relief. It was just a hint of a fossil buried in the rock – fossilized teeth. Teeth that were about a meter long.

I didn't like the look of the crack in the ceiling, but I liked the idea of staying even less, and decided to try my luck with it. That was a cramped ordeal, and I got stuck more than once, finally emerging in a low space just large enough to crawl in. There was no fungus here, and it was not a corridor. I was just adrift in the black. So I chose a direction and crawled until I found a wall, which I followed until it sloped upward. Then I climbed. And so on.

Things got even stranger when I got into the larger caverns. There was a lot of water in them, very cold, clear water – which I hesitated to drink, but ended up drinking anyway. Stalagmites and stalactites made some of the larger chambers quite spectacular, and the fungus and pools of water created interesting effects on the walls. The place was not, in spite of everything, without its charms.

But I didn't linger, not even in the really pretty rooms. By now there had been more branches in the path than I could keep track of, and I was hopelessly lost, aimlessly taking whatever path presented itself to me.

And suddenly, the fungus was gone. In one room it was there, in the next, there was nothing but my light to guide me. It almost got me killed.

A deep chasm yawned in front of me. I couldn't see the bottom. I couldn't see the ceiling. I couldn't see the walls. I wasn't even sure what direction I'd come from. All I knew was that there was a bottomless drop right in front of me.

I was so surprised and horrified that I jumped back, knocking some rocks loose from the edge. I heard them tumble down the stone. The clatter died away, echoing. I never heard them hit bottom.

There was a voice from the darkness. "Why don't you come over here?"

I could hardly believe it. It was coming from across the chasm. "Hello?" I called back. "Friendly stalker."

"Why don't you come over here?"

I was taken aback. I guess I thought he might identify himself.

"How?" I shouted back. "Is there a way across?"

Silence.

"Hello?" I called out, looking down. I couldn't even see the other side of gap. My light didn't go very far – maybe I could make it, if the other side was just out of sight – but it still didn't look good. I took a couple of steps to my left, wondering if I could find a place where the chasm was narrower. "Who are you?"

No answer. I paused, turning my trunk to pan my light around. There was nothing to see. My hand was hovering where my Glock should have been.

"Anyone there?" I asked, not so loud this time. My voice still echoed. I seriously considered turning off my light; it wasn't doing me any good, and it was making me a target. On the other hand, I didn't want to fall.

"Why don't you come over here?"

I stepped back, away from the gap, swallowing. "How?"

Nothing. I thought of the dangler fish, and wondered if there was really someone over there. I didn't think there was.. No one human, at any rate. It was a trap. Maybe an anomaly that could somehow mimic a human voice. Maybe something else. I didn't want to find out.

"Maybe I'll find another way," I called out, backing away from the edge. There was no reply, and I didn't mind. There was something about that voice that I didn't like. Something artificial.

I'd always chosen paths that I hoped would take me up. They never did – or at least, never more than a few meters. No, I was steadily going deeper, and though I didn't know exactly how far down I was, I had an idea. There are underground tunnels and facilities all over the Zone. Some even say that the X-Labs are all networked, like one big basement for the area surrounding Chernobyl. I don't know anything about that. But underneath the man-made structures are the caverns, which are almost as well known. The ones near the surface, anyway – I was far below those. I was in uncharted territory. Heck, they hadn't even mapped a quarter of the labs yet, and those that they had were said to change periodically, making efforts to record them useless.

I knew that I'd made a mistake when I didn't try to swim my way out. The Zone was always changing, but even if it wasn't, I would have been in new territory anyway. Nobody came down this far. Nobody was this stupid.


	34. Chapter 34

Freedom

Chapter 34

Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Away from the passive danger of being lured into jumping to my death trying to cross an uncrossable chasm – and into the active danger of being eaten by something really big. I'd tell you what it was, but I was too busy running to get a good look at it. And yet, as I ran along the tunnel, there was something I couldn't help but notice – the shape of it. It was round. Very round. I doubted it was perfectly circular, but it was nothing like the caverns I'd traveled through earlier.

I could hear the heavy footfalls behind me. It actually sounded like only two feet; I was surprised to be chased by something bipedal under the circumstances, but not curious enough to stop or look back.

No, I was concentrating on running fast. I also felt very hungry, but I can talk about that later. As the beam from the light on my chest bobbed about, the back of my mind was working on the shape of the cavern.

I thought of old science projects from elementary school. Of earthworms tunneling through dirt. Of that movie with Kevin Bacon, and the underground monsters. Of that asteroid in The Empire Strikes Back.

But alas, that wasn't what was chasing me. In the positive corner, the tunnel was sloping upward, a welcome change. In the negative, the tunnel was sloping upward, and I was gasping for breath because running uphill is hard at the best of times.

So, it probably won't come as a surprise to you that I wasn't nearly as deep down as I thought I was. Don't get me wrong, it was still really deep – but I wasn't miles beneath the surface or anything. I mention it because the rock overhead was turning to soil, and I could see what appeared to be a foundation – but only for a moment.

I did outdistance whatever was after me – though it took several minutes of hard running, some ill-advised turns, and a lot of my energy, which was a bigger deal than it sounds like. It was cold on the surface, and even colder underground. Worse yet, I still hadn't fully dried out; it wasn't like I was walking around in the sunlight. Furthermore, I hadn't eaten in, by my estimation, eleven or twelve hours. That's not enough to really weaken someone, but on top of everything else, it wasn't helping. My core temperature was low, and if you've ever been there, you know it doesn't make you feel strong and energetic. The only part of me that was warm was my right hand.

But enough feeling sorry for myself – there were two positive things. The first was that I seemed to finally be moving up. The second was that there was somewhere for me to go at all. I'd been walking and climbing for hours on end – this system of caverns was massive, and there was no guarantee that it wouldn't just stop short.

I kept up a brisk pace for a while after I could no longer hear footsteps behind me. Maybe whatever it was had a way to track me – a keen sense of smell would be a requirement for something that lived down here – but I couldn't run forever.

Once I knew I'd put at least a kilometer between myself and the spot where I'd last heard my mysterious pursuer, I stopped to get my breath. It was another of those curiously round corridors, dripping with icy water, and lit up by the fungus from the lower caves. The light was pale here, weaker than what I'd seen earlier. It was still better than absolute darkness.

I had to rest. I sat down on a low shelf of rock, gazing up the tunnel. Soon I wouldn't just be walking uphill, I'd be climbing. I didn't know if I was glad or not; my exhaustion was profound.

Not for the first time, I found myself wondering what I was doing there. How had I gotten from my life to this? When nothing's going on, small things seem like big things. You can get bent out of shape over a headache or a parking ticket. But when something's really going on, it's hard not to feel like parking tickets and headaches are triflingly easy to deal with. How could I have ever felt stressed in a situation where anything less than death was on the line?

I honestly didn't know. I did know that if I got out of the Zone alive, nothing would ever shake me up again. And maybe that was the value of being here. Rather than proving to myself that I was capable, I was actually becoming capable. I mean, if all I'd wanted to do was prove I could fight, I could've just done some MMA bouts and knocked a couple of people out.

Instead I'd come here and killed some people. It hadn't seemed like such an extreme decision from the outside.

It didn't bother me that I'd killed; it was survival of the fittest here; there was no way around that. It bothered me a little that I could kill so easily, though. I mean, a week ago I was an ordinary guy. Pretty normal, I think. Maybe I'm wrong about that, because it felt like I'd picked things up awfully quickly. I'd known it might be necessary here, but I hadn't predicted it would come so soon, or so often.

I knew I had the rest of my life to think about the philosophical ramifications of what I was doing, provided I ever got home. There was no time for this while I was here. In fact, I needed to do the opposite. If I wanted to survive, whether I stayed for my whole year, or cut and ran as soon as Velvet was finished with me – if I was going to make it, I couldn't just switch off philosophy. I had to change it. Whatever preconceptions I had about morality had to go. I couldn't question the decision to pull the trigger – I just had to do it. Over and over, as many times as it took to get me out of here in one piece.

I looked down at my right hand for a moment, then pulled the glove off. The spot seemed to flicker, shimmering in the pale light of the glowing mushrooms, as though it were somehow fluid.

I had to become the kind of reptile that could do whatever it took. It was the only way. I'd been lucky so far, but I wouldn't be lucky forever.

A hand fell on my shoulder, and my eyes snapped open. The Morton Stalker was looking down at me, one eyebrow arched. "Dude," he said.

I flinched away, hit my head on the rock, and swore aloud.

"Dude," he repeated. "You're way too intense. You need to lighten up."

I got to my feet, stunned. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Going that way, I guess." He pointed down the tunnel, which sloped away into the dark.

"There's nothing down there."

"How would you know?" He cocked his head to one side. I just stared at him in disbelief. He shrugged and backed away, then started down.

"Wait," I said, for lack of something better.

"Go on." His voice floated back to me through the darkness. He was moving fast. "It's not far now."

I stared into the dark, hardly believing what had just happened. I wanted to go after him – but couldn't make myself move deeper into the caverns. Time passed before I pulled myself together enough to turn and begin again to trudge upward. I didn't get far.

I could hear something. Actually, I saw it first. There was light ahead. Real light.

I moved forward, but stopped as I couldn't help but notice the sound. Like a clicking, or rustling. Odd. I continued forward, more interested in the light.

The ceiling of the tunnel had been broken, maybe even blasted open. I wasn't sure what was up there, but it was up, and I could see flickering blue light. There was concrete, maybe part of that same foundation I'd spotted earlier – and some jutting rebar.

I looked back into the tunnel. The sound was getting louder. My hand was telling me that was bad. It was high, but not too high. I didn't feel up to it, but what could I do? It took a couple of jumps, and I had to give myself extra height with a crumbling ledge, but I managed to get my hands on a fairly solid piece of rebar. For a moment I hung there, then started to pull myself up. This was not easy, climbing from one piece of rebar to another – and bracing myself against the concrete when there was none – but more than the burning in my muscles, I felt grateful to finally be seeing something man-made. There was still a ways up, and I could hear the rustling very clearly now.

Grimacing with exertion, I stole a glance downward, and the light on my chest lit up the tunnel below. It was moving. The whole tunnel was moving. Well, no – the stone wasn't – but the thousands of black bodies pouring over it were.

I climbed faster.


	35. Chapter 35

Freedom

Chapter 35

All right, so there was a swarm of something really scary below, the great unknown above, and a tremendously taxing, somewhat painful climb in between. But hey, it could have been worse – there might have been no convenient rebar. I possibly could have gotten up without it, but there's no way I could have done it as fast – so there's no doubt the twisted bars saved my life.

The source of the light I'd seen was immediately evident: electrical anomalies. I recognized them at once, and I was actually kind of relieved to encounter something I was familiar with. Crazy stories come out of the Zone, all kinds of them – but there are really very few things that are well-known to the rest of the world in more than general terms. Electrical anomalies are common, they've been around forever, and everybody knows them. I feel like it sells them short to call them commonplace, though. After all, science can't account for them, like most of the Zone – take that, militant atheists – and they're really quite beautiful to look at. If you could find a way to contain and transport one you'd make a killing, because everyone in the civilized world would want one as a decoration.

My relief didn't last. I remembered the Morton Stalker, and hoped he was all right. Enough time had passed that if he kept moving into the caverns, he could have put quite a bit of distance between himself and that swarm – but I didn't like it. What had he been doing down there? Why would anyone deliberately come to a place like this?

He'd suggested that I didn't have far to go, and from that I assumed he meant this hole. So he'd gotten in through here, which meant there was a way out. I felt bad for the guy, but not so bad that I was going back down. Though I'd been underground for less than 24 hours, I felt a powerful desire – no, compulsion – to get to the surface. There was something subtly claustrophobic about knowing just how much earth there was above me. I wanted out.

So I levered myself out of the hole, careful to avoid the anomalies, and got to my feet. The room was small and filthy, but there was a metal door right there in front of me, ajar. I eyed it warily for a few moments before opening it – I was unarmed, after all. But if the Morton Stalker had come through here, that meant it was either safe, or he'd dealt with whatever was down here. Presumably.

The corridor didn't have the benefit of the flickering glow of the anomalies, and I had only my own light to go by. I couldn't see far enough to determine which way was better, so I turned right and started walking. I wasn't sure what to think of the facility I was in – the walls were concrete and the doors were metal. I thought it was probably a basement. Decay was everywhere. There were telltale stains on the walls, and I found an ancient, dried out carcass of a blood drinker. Creepy.

I wasn't inclined to search the rooms; I just wanted to find the exit. A bunch of shell casings had fallen into a puddle of blood, which had dried, sticking them all in place. Something about that rubbed me the wrong way, and again, I found myself wondering what on earth I was doing in a place where you couldn't walk five steps without finding blood, casings, bodies, mortal peril, or all of it.

I didn't get to brood long, because next I happened on the body of a stalker. Once again, frustratingly, he'd been there for a while.

I knelt and began to examine him. The cause of death wasn't immediately evident, but I had a suspicion that electrical anomalies had done him in – I could hear them crackling in other rooms.

I searched him thoroughly. He had a 74u, but I didn't think it was usable. It wasn't all fused into one piece, like the weapons I'd found earlier, but it was covered in rust, and rattled disturbingly when I shook it. The magazine was about half full, but I had no use for the bullets.

I found some anti-radiation meds on his belt, and a couple of sealed calorie bars. They were old, but I was brave. I ate one, and put the other away. He had no pistol holster, but there was a Makarov wrapped in cloth in his pack. It appeared to be in working order, but it would need a cleaning before I'd trust it – though that hardly mattered, because there were no bullets for it to speak of. I went ahead and took it, though. At the very least I'd be able to pull it on somebody, and they wouldn't know it was empty.

There was also a big knife. It wasn't in the best shape, but a knife has to be pretty far gone before it can't do its job anymore, and this one had a few stabs left in it. He even had a whetstone.

The real find was the PDA. The battery was long dead, but I found more in the bag. One was corroded, but the other was usable. I had the PDA powered up in moments. The Stalker hadn't used it much, but there were handful of stashes marked on a map dated from over two months ago. The PDA wasn't able to sync my location to the map – but was it because I was underground, or because the satellites were still down?

There were no text or audio logs. A couple of frequencies had been saved, but I wasn't familiar with any of them. Still – with this PDA, when I got out of here, I'd be able to contact Velvet and the others, assuming they were still alive. Those weren't very cheery thoughts – but I was out of the caves, and things were looking up.

Something clattered nearby. Amazingly, I managed not to jump. I rose to my feet and turned my light in that direction. Nothing was moving. I hefted the knife, reversed my grip on it, and started cautiously forward. I hadn't gotten ten steps before there was another noise, this one coming from the opposite direction.

I hadn't been going out of my way to be noisy, but I knew I hadn't been completely silent. If there was something down here, I wasn't surprised it was onto me.

This had to be dealt with. I didn't know which way was out, and even if I had, there was no guarantee I could outrun whatever was in here. Yet, the Zone's predators don't announce their presence this way – they stalk in silence. Was I still under the radar? No, these sounds were downright clumsy. Were there people down here, maybe searching the place, and just oblivious to me? That seemed plausible – but no, they'd be talking to each other.

It came to me suddenly – infected. They wander around, they bump into things. They aren't good at being stealthy. I didn't hear any of that ragged breathing that usually gave them away, but maybe it was masked by the electrical anomalies. My thoughts on the infected should be well-known by now; I don't like them. I haven't liked them ever since I witnessed an outbreak firsthand, far outside the Zone. And I wasn't afraid of them. In fact, just the thought that they might be down here had gotten my hand opening and closing in anticipation. If there was one thing my time in the Zone had done, it had given me confidence in my ability to fight.

But I was way off. I never heard it coming; a wooden crate just smashed across my back, splintering into pieces and throwing me to the floor. It hurt, yeah, but I was less interested in the pain than in what was going on. I rolled over, searching desperately for an attacker, but there was nothing to see. I scrambled aside as a heavy metal bucket came sailing out of the darkness, narrowly missing me.

I jerked out the empty Makarov and aimed down the corridor, but an empty barrel flattened me from behind. I got to my hands and knees, groaning, in time to see the bucket simply lift from the ground and fling itself at me.

Okay, so I had a lot of confidence – but I had no idea what to do with this, so I ran for it.


	36. Chapter 36

Freedom

Chapter 36

Like you probably figured, I did get out – though not before being smashed over the head with a flying piece of wood, knocked flat by a bit of pipe, and tripped by a barrel that was rolling all by itself. There was some trial and error in finding my way topside, then out of the building, made worse by the electrical anomalies. I'd see something flying at me and try to dodge, only to notice that if I dodged that way, I was dead.

That is to say, compared to how I felt down in those caves, I was having a blast. Bruised, aching, cold, starving, and exhausted, I emerged to find myself not far from the channel. It was daylight, but it was late, and dusk was coming on. I could see the dark water down the hillside.

The building I'd come out of wasn't easy to identify; there was no road, only a gravel path. I was, of course, on the west side of the channel, and the lack of access told me nothing about what sort of basement I'd been in. The building could have been anything. I hadn't been paying close attention to the little details as I fled from the floating debris that had been trying to kill me.

But what did I care what kind of building it was? I wasn't going back in there. I didn't know what had been throwing all that stuff at me, but I wasn't going to make friends with it, that was for sure.

As I took stock of my surroundings, it became clear that I was some distance north of where I'd begun. I climbed up the bank to the highway and looked south. I could just see a smudge that was probably the ship we'd tried to stay the night on, way down there. I let out a long breath. It was well over a kilometer away.

I wondered if the stalkers at large realized just how expansive the system of caverns beneath the Zone really was. I was betting most of them didn't. Especially now, with fewer stalkers on the scene, and more mutants. And no satellite imaging, because a quick check told me it was still down. I wondered how long it would be before there was no point looking at maps at all.

Great. Now that I was in the open, I felt like I could finally relax. A little, anyway. I ate my second calorie bar and sat back against a large rock, wondering what the odds were I'd find my way from the bottom of those caverns to here in one piece. I looked at my right hand, but didn't take off the glove. The decisions about which way to go – they had come to me awfully easily. I'd assumed I was being random.

I shook my head, finished the calorie bar, and took out the PDA again. Maps were still not updating, but the communicators were unaffected by whatever was blocking the satellites. I entered Velvet's frequency and got on the band.

"Anybody there?"

Static. I waited patiently, but didn't get anything. So I pinged her PDA. She'd see it the next time she checked it, and presumably get online. That done, I made sure I was more or less out of sight, and closed my eyes. It was cold, but not so cold I didn't think I could doze off. Maybe I did. Velvet's voice woke me up.

"Who is this?" Of course she'd ask that – I'd pinged her from a random stalker's PDA.

I got alert fast, and cleared my throat. "It's me, Mist – where are you?"

A bit of a pause. "Well – well, I'll be damned." It might have been wishful thinking on my part, or maybe the static – but she sounded a little choked up. Another moment went by. "Are you all right?"

"More or less. No weapon, no supplies. But I'm topside now. I've been underground."

"I – I don't want to know. Well, I do – but not now. Where are you?"

"North of the ship, west side of the channel."

"Okay – okay, great. Mist, you need to go north – you need to follow the channel north, all the way to Kevorich."

"Is that where you are?"

"Well – sort of."

"What's that mean?"

"Just go, it's getting dark."

"How far is it?"

"From the ship it's two or three hours, depending on your pace."

I let out a low whistle. That was a little more ground to cover unarmed than I liked. "Is the road safe?"

"Not especially. Sorry – I can't talk now. Get up here."

This was a bad idea – the smart thing to do would be to wait until morning to travel, but I wasn't keen on spending the night with no weapon and no food. So I had to go while the going was – well, not good, but while it was an option. I got to my feet, tucked away the PDA, and climbed the hill. The road was cracked and overgrown, like most roads in the Zone, but it was passable. I started to jog.

As the sun sank, the sense of isolation was profound. Perhaps even more so than underground. Up here there were the sounds of the Zone, all the more ominous in the twilight. Crows cawed in the trees. I heard a distant gunshot just once, and it must have been a very long way off. I crossed a bridge, and heard something splashing underneath it.

Lights appeared on the road ahead, and I hid myself until the stalkers passed. They could have been anyone; I'd never know – but I couldn't risk them seeing me. I needed the rest anyway. I'd started flagging after a couple kilometers, and I was really panting now.

So far I'd managed not to run into any anomalies, but I wondered how long that luck would hold once the sun was down and I couldn't see. I had to pick up the pace, but that was impossible. I'd been tired even before reaching the surface; now I didn't even know what I was running on. Probably nothing more than willpower – but I doggedly jogged off once I thought the coast was clear.

My breathing was getting pretty loud, and I wasn't getting anything from my right hand. It almost felt normal. That was refreshing, in its own way.

Out of breath again, I had to stop. I was in the middle of the road. It was quite dark now – the goal of running had been to reach Kevorich before night fell, but so much for that. I weighed the risks, and turned on my chest light – but it only amplified the darkness around me, and made me feel more alone. I put on the dead stalker's earpiece and switched it to the open channel, just to have some company.

It's not a good idea to sacrifice your situational awareness that way, especially not at night – but I was desperate. I couldn't account for it. I just didn't want to be out here in the night, completely alone.

I didn't want to talk, either. I didn't know what I would say, and my ragged breathing was probably broadcasting my position well enough without me going out of my way to announce myself.

A pair of stalkers were talking about the ship, and how it appeared to be leaning more than it used to. I listened to them, grateful for the measure of normality that was restored just by hearing human voices. As I jogged on, I wondered about what they were saying. The ship leaning? That probably wasn't caused by the firefight. Or was it? What had hit the ship, not once, but twice during the battle? That had to be the cause. But what had it been? Some large piece of debris, floating down the channel?

Maybe. I knew one thing – I wasn't going near that ship again. And it would be a while before I'd consent to go underground, too. Fresh air tasted good; I wouldn't be giving it up anytime soon.

I heard Kevorich before I saw it – but then almost immediately the glow was visible ahead. Even though the man it was named after was dead, it looked and sounded as if Kevorich was as lively as ever. They say it's the biggest settlement the Zone's ever seen. I haven't been around long enough to comment on that – but even from a ways off, I was impressed. Or maybe I was just relieved that I'd gotten there in one piece. Whatever the case, the brightly colored lights, loud music, and raucous sounds were a lot warmer and more welcoming than anything I'd encountered underground.


	37. Chapter 37

Freedom

Chapter 37

Kevorich was a small cluster of buildings overlooking the channel. There was about a ten meter drop to the water, and maybe if this hadn't been the Zone, it would have been quite picturesque. Fencing and barricades had been erected in the gaps between the structures, neatly compartmentalizing Kevorich. It was big, but cozy. There was only one clear way in – the main gate. The guards manning it let me through with curious glances – they probably didn't see many Asians in these parts, and I'd lost my mask somewhere along the way.

My armor was no longer as pristine as it had once been – okay, it was actually pretty filthy and battered. That was good; dirt wouldn't stop it from doing its job, and now I blended in much better.

It felt good to be out of danger – more or less. I mean, I was surrounded by dangerous men, but we're all friends at Kevorich, right? I was finally in the clear – really in the clear. For the first time since setting foot on that freaking ship, I could let my guard down, and I did. There was a lot to see.

Like the trading post, where there were a couple of permanent merchants, and enough space for roving traders to set up shop for the night. It looked busy. I could smell real food – actual cooking – and it made my stomach growl. There was medical care, supplies, music, and a lot of noise coming from a crowd around something I couldn't see. Colored lights were strung up everywhere, and though nothing was in particularly good repair, small touches had been added to give the place a festive look. There were probably sixty or seventy stalkers that I could see, and more in the buildings.

I knew Kevorich was bigger than Rostov had ever been, thanks to the Incursion – but this was a heavy turnout. A heavy turnout, especially in a time when the stalker population was at an all time low.

I didn't even have to wonder about it. I knew why they were all here. It looked like they were all just hanging out, having a good time – but the truth was that they were huddled together with the night light on. They were afraid. Maybe of the cultists, maybe of Duty. Maybe of something I didn't know about, of the rumors in general. I'd chosen a dark time to visit the Zone, and even the bravest stalkers were reluctant to spend the night in the wilds these days.

There were three or four sources of very loud music, but none of them could hold a candle to the crowd. I had to check it out, before food, before finding Velvet – I had to see what was going on.

There was a pit – some kind of concrete trough, like a cistern, but barred at both ends, and open on top. It had been drained, and cleaned out, and now it was being used for what appeared to be bare-knuckle boxing. There was a lot of betting and shouting going on, and I didn't hang around to watch.

My initial surprise and wonder at Kevorich was wearing off, and I was starting to think about how hungry I was. I moved away from the fight crowd – there was nowhere quiet to go, but it was something, and got out the PDA. Velvet was on the band, now.

"I'm here," I reported, watching people move around. I didn't recognize anybody, but that was no surprise.

"Great, go into medical, check on Biker. Talk to him." She sounded busy. Puzzled, I switched off the earpiece and did as I was told. The medical building had once been a petrol station. It was the brightest and cleanest structure I'd seen since coming to the Zone. That's not to say that it was particularly clean or bright, but it was much less filthy and dim than everything else.

There were about a dozen beds, and most of them were occupied. I spotted the Biker immediately. He was sitting up with a PDA, his leg swathed in bandages. He must have felt my eyes on him, because he looked up almost immediately.

"I'll be damned," he said.

"You okay?"

"I'll live. Sit down." I pulled over a stool and did so, looking over the rest of the place. There was a stalker, and a man who was obviously a physician. Neither was paying any attention to me, and the other patients weren't, either. There was a powerful smell of marijuana. The little clinic seemed very laid back.

I realized abruptly that in the bed beside the Biker's lay Sagaris. He didn't look good. There was an IV in his arm, and his chest was heavily bandaged. His skin was pale, and he wasn't conscious.

"Is he okay?"

"He'll be off his feet for a while."

"What about you?"

He scowled. "A week, maybe more."

"And the Merc?"

"He's already off. We lost a lot of our gear – including yours. We ran through our ammo, and lost some weapons, too. We weren't carrying a lot of cash, and what we did have we had to spend to get treated, and to pay up for him." The Biker jerked his chin toward Sagaris. "We're broke. The Merc's going to pick up some of our stashes."

I nodded. Of course this clinic wasn't free; it was no doubt an extremely profitable racket. "Is he going to be able to recover? It looked like he took a bad hit."

"I think so. If he's not healing up, he has the option of evac – we'll pick up the tab for it if it comes to that, since he got hit working for us."

"That's decent of you."

"That's Velvet."

"The girls?"

"Velvet convinced the courtesans to look after them for the moment. Apparently they owe her a favor. Not enough of a favor to spot us some cash, but you take what you can get."

It was good to know they were squared away, if only temporarily. "Where is she?"

The Biker motioned me to come closer, and I leaned in. "About half a kilometer due east – there's an electrical substation. She's in there. You understand why she can't come in here."

"Yeah." I said, not meaning it. Then I thought about it, and understood.

"What happened to you?"

"I got in the water and dragged down. Ended up in the caves down there, real deep."

He nodded, looking impressed. "Sounds like you were lucky. See anything worth mentioning?"

"I don't really want to talk about it. Not tonight, anyway."

"Fair enough."

"What about you guys? What happened?"

"We killed them to the last man, but as you can see, they got a piece."

"There were like thirty of them. That's ten of them for one of you."

"Seventeen, once we counted them all."

"Well, it seemed like more with all the shooting."

"Yeah."

"And I saw one get dragged into the water – so that's eighteen. And there is something down there."

"Yeah – we know. We felt it hit the ship."

So it wasn't just me. I felt a chill. "Yeah," I said.

"Listen, you need to go see Velvet, and get your orders from her."

Orders, huh? Well, true – the job wasn't done yet. And the team had just taken a big hit. I couldn't abandon them now, could I? No – I had to at least see them back on their feet, right? My right hand was throbbing again.

"Okay – uh, look – you got anything to eat?"

The Biker reached over for his armor, which was on the table beside his bed, and pulled a few crumpled notes from a pouch. "Sorry, it's all I got. It'll get you a meal."

"I'll pay you back."

"Naturally. Go check on Velvet as soon as you can. I don't like her being out there by herself."

"Do you have a weapon? With ammo?"

He shook his head. "Had to sell off what we had left. Merc's got my Pernach. You should be okay – it's not far, and so close to the settlement should be pretty safe."

You'll forgive me for not liking the sound of that. But I nodded and got up. "I'll eat and run," I promised.

"All right, man. I'm glad you made it."

I left the clinic and headed for where I'd smelled the food. I'd never been a fan of Russian cooking before then – but I'd never been that hungry, either. I ate more than I should have, but I didn't gorge myself – I didn't want to get sick. I realized I didn't even have a canteen that I could have them refill. I was going to need all new gear.

Then I spotted Slayer and Dixon. They were standing in a haze of marijuana smoke at the far end of the courtyard.

I stared at them for a few moments, wondering if I was surprised to see them alive or not. I decided that I wasn't. Their Duty patches stood out clearly on their fatigues.


	38. Chapter 38

Freedom

Chapter 38

Well, it wasn't like I was surprised. They'd told me upfront they were joining Duty. The fact that I worked for Freedom just put a new spin on things, that's all. The two Americans weren't my friends – but I knew them. They weren't faceless enemies, like the cultists. I wondered if I would be able to pull the trigger on them when the time came. There was no guarantee that time would ever come – in fact, it was highly unlikely. But even so. As I gazed across the yard at them, I couldn't help but think about it. My right hand warmed at the thought.

I was finished eating. Overhead, the stars were actually pretty bright. That was nice, because I'd need the light if I was going to go see Velvet. This wasn't the forest, but there were a lot of trees out there, and the going would be treacherous even if I didn't bump into anything hostile.

I felt better after eating – and it helped that I knew the fate of my friends after the ordeal on the ship – but I was still tired. Something told me Velvet and the Biker wouldn't have much sympathy for me. Actually, they probably didn't view me as a spoiled rookie. I mean, I'd pulled my weight so far, right? I felt like I had. And after what they'd seen me do to that hallway full of infected, I was pretty sure they had to take me seriously.

I left the canteen without letting Slayer and Dixon spot me. If the guards had looked at me curiously before, now they were downright incredulous. It was late, and I was going back out into the night alone, and obviously unarmed. They thought I was crazy, and they were right. This wasn't necessary. I could wait until morning. So what if the Biker wanted someone to check on Velvet? I could check on her tomorrow. I looked down at my right hand, then at the guards, then got moving. Due east.

I didn't jog this time. The footing would be poor, and I'd be better off to move quietly. The little building was even closer than the Biker had indicated – a small, squat shape against the forest. A concrete structure with a metal door, which was firmly closed – but I could see smoke rising from the top.

Aligning myself to the right of the door, I eased it open. Velvet was there, staring at a small, but cheery fire. The interior of the station was stiflingly warm – it was cramped, and well-insulated – and Velvet had stripped to the waist, revealing a surprisingly fancy black brassiere. She hadn't noticed me, and I opened the door just a little more for a better view – but the damn thing squeaked. She looked up in surprise.

"Don't be such a ninja," she said. That made me want to laugh – it must have been her accent. "Don't stand there. Come in."

I did. She pulled on her fatigue top, and that was a shame – but also good, because I wouldn't have been able to focus if she hadn't. It was hot. I took off my outer armor and sat across from her. She shifted to put just a little more space between us. I had a feeling she'd have done that no matter where I sat. I got to the point.

"Biker's okay. Sagaris looks bad. I didn't see the girls. What's going on?" I looked around. There was nothing there but her and the fire. "Where's your weapon?"

"I sold it. Why keep it with no bullets?"

I sighed. This was bad. "What's the deal?" At least she wasn't hurt.

She gazed glumly at the fire. "We wait for the Merc. He travels fastest alone."

"He'll bring back equipment?"

"No, artifacts I've had stashed – but we can sell them."

I nodded. If just keeping her ragged little band armed and healthy was stretching Velvet's budget this much, how did she expect to get a faction off the ground? I wasn't going to ask that aloud – her day couldn't have been much better than mine.

"So that's it? We wait for him? How long?"

"Two days. Perhaps three."

Well, it wasn't like I didn't need the rest. And we probably weren't going anywhere without the Biker anyway. But we couldn't just sit around here broke for three days – for all I knew, the money the Biker had given me was the last actual cash any of us had.

I was making Velvet uncomfortable. She was doing a good job hiding it – but I have instincts. And lately they'd been sharper. She didn't like being in here with me. I didn't think she disliked me. I hadn't given her a reason to, that I could think of. What I'd done to the infected? Was she scared of me? It was possible. It probably bothered her that we'd come off the ship so ragged – we'd won the engagement, if you could call it that, but it was not what I'd call a convincing victory. Maybe she was beating herself up over the lackluster performance there – or maybe she was just upset that she couldn't provide for her troops. She seemed the type to take her responsibilities seriously, even when it wasn't reasonable to do so.

Whatever the case, nothing had eaten me on the way out to her, and nothing was going to eat me on the way back. If my presence made her uncomfortable, I would go. I didn't know if Velvet liked me, but I liked her, and not just because she was a total babe.

I had a couple of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, which I'd brought along because I hadn't been sure how soon I'd get back to Kevorich, and I had no other provisions to speak of. I had a feeling that even just reaching out to take them from me would have been an ordeal for Velvet, so I just put them down by the fire.

"Here," I said. Man – you know she's the type to go without food to save a few rubles for her troops in need. With that, I picked up my armor and left the building, heading back west. Okay, so that was abrupt, maybe even a little rude – but I didn't want to give her pride a chance to do something she'd regret.

So I was alone in the Zone, walking through the woods, penniless and unarmed. But I'm not looking for your sympathy – I just want to illustrate how just a couple of days before, I'd been one of the best-equipped and situated stalkers around. My gear had been intelligently chosen, and was of the best quality. I had also fallen in with some of the finest stalkers. This ragged little Freedom crew was small, and, well, ragged – but they looked out for each other, and it wasn't like they couldn't handle themselves.

But now it was different; one chance encounter with a bunch of crazy people had scattered and hurt us – and this was far from the worst-case scenario. Things change fast in the Zone. No rules. I don't feel like a lot of people appreciate that.

Waiting for the Merc, huh? If he wanted to do the heavy lifting, fine. That guy was sure earning his pay. He'd signed on with Velvet awfully quickly, though it seemed like he had a reputation as the lone-wolf type. Was he hoping to get laid? Well, good luck.

I made it back to Kevorich without any problems, though about a quarter of the way there, I'd heard a scream that hadn't come from anything I'd ever heard of. Even outside the Zone, you can go to one of the many Zone-related sites and listen to audio clips of stuff. Sometimes there's even video. I was pretty sure whatever had made that scream wasn't on any of those sites. It made me want to run, but that would just give me away. I knew that in my dirty black armor, I was all but invisible, and as long as I didn't rush, nearly silent. Slow and steady wins the race.

Kevorich was winding down a little when I got back. People would still be up and making noise for a while, of course, because Kevorich never really sleeps – but the peak hours were coming to an end, and so was my sixth day in the Zone.


	39. Chapter 39

Freedom

Chapter 39

Winding down, yes. Finished, not yet. We could wait for the Merc, but we couldn't wait penniless. I wasn't sure if the impulse came from me, or from whatever was wrong with my right hand – but I went straight to the pit.

There was a fight on, but I wasn't interested in that. The only official-looking person was the man in the meshed-in booth. Because everyone was watching the fight, I had him all to myself. I shouted some questions to him over the roar of the spectators – you'd be surprised how much noise just thirty stalkers can make.

The situation was about what I'd expected, except even more liberal. I'd never fought professionally before, but I didn't need to be a seasoned pro to recognize opportunity when it knocked. My right hand wanted blood, and my friends – and I – needed money.

You could die, but these weren't even technically death matches. All I had to do was win convincingly. I – or at least my right hand – was pretty confident I could do that.

I signed. And I didn't have long to wait. The guy in the cage shouted at some other guys, and they all but threw me into the pit – but not before taking everything I had, including my upper armor, and locking it in a big green box.

I touched down, and got to my feet. Boy, this concrete trough hadn't looked quite so deep from overhead. The perspective I had on the stalkers above was pretty ominous. It was a little chilly to be out in nothing but a compression shirt, but I had a feeling I'd be warming up soon.

My opponent didn't keep me waiting. He came down shirtless. His hands were taped up, and he had some bruises, but he looked pretty fresh. There was no bell or anything; we were both down there, so it was on. He raised his hands in a stance that was unfamiliar to me, but obviously pugilistic in nature.

"Hey," I said.

"What?" he replied in English.

"You know who Bruce Lee is?"

"Yeah."

"Then what are you doing here?"

I hit him so hard that a lot of people looking on stopped shouting long enough to groan on his behalf. It was probably the shortest fight they'd ever seen. There was an awkward silence. Then a lot of outraged shouting in Russian. I didn't blame them; the odds had been stacked against me, and they'd all just lost their money.

A ladder was lowered, and I climbed out, going to the cage to collect my winnings. It wasn't a lot of money in the great scheme of things, but for ten seconds' work it wasn't too bad.

Unsurprisingly, the manager suggested another fight. If not for my hand, I'd probably have quit while I was ahead. As it was, I shrugged my shoulders and said: "Why not?"

So, twenty minutes later, after listening to some Russian that I didn't fully understand, I was back in the pit. They were offering me a lot more for this fight, so I figured it would probably be someone fairly tough. I folded my arms and tapped my foot impatiently. The spectators were curiously quiet. I felt like I was about to get the punch line – like I'd inadvertently agreed to fight a pack of blood drinkers or something.

That was impossible, of course, but the part of me that was still thinking straight had a bad feeling about this. I'd read that in the arena at Rostov, they actually got in there with live weapons and shot at each other. Surely this good-natured little fight club wouldn't expect anything like that, right?

I thought back to the previous fight. I felt a little like Jet Li in that movie where he beats people up – well, one of them. The one with the guy from Who Framed Roger Rabbit. You know what I'm talking about. I'd have to give them a little more of a show this time. I'd also put my winnings from the last fight on myself, and to my surprise, they'd let me. That was odd, now that I thought about it.

Well, whatever. I waited. But not for long.

The concrete underfoot shook when my opponent dropped into the pit.

"Gee," I said aloud. "I didn't know the Merc had a twin."

Okay, so the guy wasn't quite as big as the Merc. But he was close. And he was wearing an exoskeleton. And he was carrying a sledgehammer. And I really ought to listen closer when people talk to me. Something told me backing out wasn't an option. Now I saw why they'd let me bet on myself – because if I lost this fight, I was dead. I couldn't very well throw it, could I?

There was no preamble. I was dodging wild, incredibly fast swings from that sledgehammer almost immediately. The exoskeleton augmented the guy's arms, so he was waving that thing around like a wiffle bat. I could barely stay ahead.

The crowd was roaring – much louder than it had at peak hours. Talk had gotten around that some idiot had gotten in the ring with this monster, and it had woken the whole place right back up. I saw _women_ up there in the crowd. It looked like it wasn't every day this guy got to come out and pound somebody to a pulp.

Well, nothing less than a chainsaw was going to get through that exoskeleton, so body shots were out. The guy was unmasked, but he was tall, and he was controlling his space. Getting in there and punching him in the face wasn't likely. This was like getting into a fistfight with Iron Man barehanded. That didn't mean I had no options – it just meant I had to change the way I was thinking about it.

I was tired of the hammer. It had to go. I held up, let him get close, and ducked a swing, then lunged in. He didn't see it coming, and he raised the hammer to protect himself. I smashed right through the middle of the wooden handle with the flat of my right hand. The exoskeleton made his arms strong, not his wrists. He was strong himself – maybe even strong enough to hang onto what was left of the hammer – but he didn't try. He let it drop. He was surprised, but he'd been in enough combat that just surprising him wasn't enough.

No, he was already coming after me again – but now his range was significantly less. It was something. Anyway, everything has a weak point – and it's actually pretty boring, because it's usually the same thing. For this guy, it was obviously his legs, specifically his knees. It didn't take a genius to see it – all that weight had to come down on something. The exoskeleton was helping, but at the end of the day, it's the real leg that matters.

He was getting frustrated, so I didn't have to wait long to catch him over-committing. Then I just kicked him in the knee.

Boy, you hate to see a grown man cry. On the other hand, it wasn't entirely un-justified – the Zone is probably about the worst possible place to have a broken knee. But this guy was the champ – he presumably had a little money, and if he had even half a brain, he'd use it for a medical evac across the channel and back to civilization.

I didn't kill him. I didn't even knock him out. I just broke his knee. So there was this huge guy in his huge exoskeleton, lying on the floor of the pit, crying. And me just standing there.

I'd managed to get another awkward silence out of the crowd. I looked up and shrugged at them. Someone declared the fight over. For a moment I was worried they'd try to stiff me for not doing it right – like with Spider-Man. Wisely, they didn't. And the odds had been so stacked against me that even I was surprised at my winnings. The few people audacious enough to bet on me had really cleaned up.

So I got just as many pats on the back as murderous looks – but remember, a murderous look is a little more serious in the Zone than it is wherever you come from. I'd made enemies tonight, and I'd have to watch my back. But hey, it's the Zone – you always watch your back. Besides, when you're mad at someone because he's too good a fighter, do you really want to fight him?

Okay, that was my right hand talking, and it could say whatever it wanted – the rest of me was going to be careful for my remaining time in Kevorich.


	40. Chapter 40

Freedom

Chapter 40

Okay, now the excitement was officially over. The canteen would be buzzing with the news of the fight for another half hour, but the day was really wrapping up this time. Turns out there are two places for lodgings in Kevorich: the bordello, and the more affordable barracks. The bordello offered actual beds. The barracks had cots, which were, after roughing it out in the Zone and concrete floors, probably pretty darn comfortable.

I actually went with the Bordello, where they welcomed me with, literally, open arms. The lady who ran the place was older than I was, and apparently a business partner of the merc who ran Kevorich. Maybe she'd been a working girl once, but she wasn't anymore. That said, she was pretty gracious for a woman with a machete on her belt. She offered me the services of a variety of surprisingly attractive girls, all at the champion-rate discount, which I turned down. It wasn't an easy decision – after all, there is something about fighting that can get one's libido all up in a dander – but paying for sex just isn't my style.

I'd chosen the bordello because there I could stay in a room, and I wouldn't have to worry about being attacked in my sleep. In the barracks, anybody would've been able to walk up and stick a knife in me during the night. After some of the looks I'd gotten just after that fight, that seemed like a real issue. That, and the bordello had showers. Besides, I could afford it.

So there ended Day Six. I spent the night in relative comfort, and maybe I shouldn't have – every time I had to sleep on the floor in the future, I'd be thinking of this bed. Every time I was out in the Zone and night was coming on, I'd be wondering how easily I could make it back to Kevorich. And then I'd be wrestling with temptation, because there was one girl who'd really caught my eye. Her price was staggering, and yet it didn't strike me as unreasonable. I could see why ambitious working girls came to the Zone. High-risk, yes – but it was also the land of opportunity.

Anyway, I was sleeping in a brothel; of course those are the sorts of things I was thinking about.

Day Seven came on at leisurely pace. There was no one to wake me up; Velvet was off in her little bunker, Merc was gone, and Biker was in the infirmary. I slept late because I could, and because you just can't understand how comfortable that bed was.

When I finally emerged, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. But instead of nice birdsong, it was just crows making noise. Still, that wasn't enough to ruin the illusion. It was late in the morning, so most stalkers had headed out for the day. I didn't quite have Kevorich to myself, but it seemed quiet and empty.

I was hungry, but I started by checking in on the Biker. He was, once again, sitting up in his bed, fiddling with his PDA. I wondered what he was doing, but didn't ask.

"Everything okay?" he asked without looking up.

"More or less."

"You hear? Somebody beat Big McLargeHuge."

"I did hear about that," I said.

"Go check on Velvet today, will you?"

"Sure." I took out some money and put it on the table by his bed, paying him back for what he'd loaned me earlier.

"Thanks," he said. He didn't ask where it had come from, and I didn't say anything. Cool guys don't brag. Don't ask me why, but I kind of looked up to the Biker. I was doing okay in the Zone, but he'd been here for a while. I was pretending to be a cool guy, but he was the real thing. So I just left it at that and asked the doctor about Sagaris. He told me things looked good.

So I headed out and dropped off my upper armor with one of the tinkerers to patch up, and went to the canteen to get breakfast. At Rostov you can get a hot sandwich. At Kevorich you can get a hot meal. With real eggs, and real bacon, if you want it. I did.

From there I went to see about getting myself a weapon. To put it mildly, the traders at Kevorich had a lot to offer. There were interesting things on the transient tables, but it was clear the best items were being sold by official Kevorich guy.

I needed a lot of stuff. Mundane things, like a canteen. And a lot of knives – that was the part that raised eyebrows from everyone in the big tent. I piled my purchases in the middle of his table. Medical supplies. Traveling rations. Anti-rads. Gun oil. All the items I'd taken for granted when I still had my pack.

I'm not really a gun person. I respect them, and I knew I needed one, but I wasn't the type to drool over the armory on display. I wanted something practical, and I settled on a Sig SG 553. It looked brand new, the action was clean, and I knew it would be pretty reliable. It was also on the small side, which was good, because I'd be traveling with it. I'd be able to rig up a harness to connect it to my armor easily enough, and it looked like a winner all around. It was, regrettably, a 5.56 rather than 5.45 – but that's life. I didn't want an AK-74, of which there were plenty. It would just make me miss my 105.

The AKS-74U was a solid candidate – but the deal breaker was the top rail. The Sig had one, the AK didn't.

I needed a sidearm too, but there wasn't a single Glock in the whole place. I'd never fired anything that wasn't a Glock. There were a lot of pistols being offered by the various traders, many of which I'd never even seen before – and I'd done research. One table had a lot of guns that were even more unusual than the others, and I found myself loitering there.

Really unusual – like a big, silver, top-break revolver in .45 Long Colt. It had a huge barrel weight, and looked pretty scary. My right hand was drawn toward it, and I picked it up.

"Pulls left," the vendor warned. His English was broken at best. I put the big gun down. Where was I going to find .45 Long Colt in the Zone anyway? There was a USP that looked suspiciously like the Merc's. It probably was; he'd sold it to help pay for the team's medical expenses. He really was a decent guy. That was why the Biker had lent him his Pernach.

An innocuous-looking two-toned FNP was hidden underneath some netting. I took it out and looked it over. It had seen its share of action. A 9mm seemed like a safe bet – but it didn't feel right. I put it down.

There was a bizarre, lumpy-looking pistol with lights on it. I picked it up and raised an eyebrow. "Why would you put LEDs on a gun?" I asked.

"Aim for eyes," the trader said.

I put it down in a hurry. There was a Colt King Cobra that looked pretty sweet, but low capacity plus the rare .357 cartridge made it less than practical. I left it alone. A pair of Beretta 92SBs stood out to me, but if I bought one or both, I'd just get myself killed trying to be Chow Yun Fat. It was inevitable.

"What about that?" I pointed at a gun in a case.

"Lunch Box," the Vendor said.

"What?"

He got out the gun and handed it over. "Is Lunch Box," he repeated. Feeling a little dubious about the reputability of this seller, I took the gun and looked it over. My real-world research hadn't covered this one, but Call of Duty had. Behold, the majestic Desert Eagle. About seventy pounds of pure doom. This one was black, with nice wooden grips. It was a .44 magnum, and I felt lucky. Okay, I'll stop. I turned it over. Scratched into the grip were the words: LUNCH BOX

I looked questioningly at the vendor.

"Belong to famous stalker," he said.

"Yeah," I replied. "And I'll bet he wore a green coat and smoked a lot of weed."

"How you know?"

I didn't hear that part, though – I was too busy looking over the gun. Or rather, my right hand wouldn't let go of it. I got the feeling that I didn't have much say in this. So much for all my talk of practicality.

"I'll take it," I said.


	41. Chapter 41

Freedom

Chapter 41

The next order of business was to check on Velvet as the Biker had requested. In daylight, the walk to her little camp was even less threatening – but it still felt good to be armed. This time I wasn't lucky enough to catch Velvet half-dressed. In fact, she wasn't even there, and I had to wait around for a little while before she showed up.

I'd bought back her weapons, and brought along some supplies for her – maybe she was a competent survivalist, but the Zone just isn't the healthiest place to be foraging in. Her reaction was about what I expected: looking very melancholy, she thanked me. And I shrugged it off, because I was trying to be a cool guy.

"Two days at least," she said, briefly checking over her MPL and wiping it down with a cloth. "But it could be three or four before he gets back."

"So do we just wait around?"

"We can. Or we can go and try to finish the mission."

"Just the two of us? Is this a date?"

That got a laugh out of her, but not the kind I was going for. "Hey," I said. "You guys never really filled me in on the guy we're looking for."

"We need him. Let's leave it at that."

I sighed. All this and they still didn't trust me. "Let's do it."

She looked me up and down. "Normally it would be suicide. But something tells me that with you along, we have a chance. You're just full of surprises."

"I'm just getting warmed up. It can't be much fun hanging around out here by yourself."

"It's calming."

Well, this was an odd situation. The Zone's only female stalker and the Zone's only Canadian/Asian Street Fighter champ on a daring mission that I still didn't fully understand. But I assumed it was daring. I mean, going around with only two people is daring in general, right?

"Can we leave the girls?"

"Yes." Velvet wasn't wasting any time. She was strapping on equipment, packing her bag, and getting ready to travel. Well, I was ready when she was, though I didn't know where we were going. I vaguely remember her and the Biker poking the screen of a PDA, but I couldn't recall the locations they'd indicated. Besides, our original mission plan had been all messed up by the debacle with the cultists. Here was hoping we didn't run into any more of them for a while.

There was nothing to do, no preparations to make. All we had to do was start walking. The Zone has never even heard of red tape, and there's something refreshing about that. We contacted the Biker's PDA and sent him a message. He immediately replied, but Velvet refused to answer. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but we were on the move, and I wasn't sure how to feel.

My right hand was all for it; getting away from Kevorich meant danger and action. My mind was a little more practical, and I was concerned about going into the heart of it with only the two of us. The rest of me didn't mind the chance to be alone with Velvet, but I knew better than to get my hopes up. Velvet was deadly serious about her work.

She wanted Freedom back, not because she gave a damn – because I wasn't convinced she did – but because when she said Duty couldn't go unchallenged, she meant it. And if she was going to lead, that meant she had to be professional.

"I thought you were left-handed," she noted as we walked.

I glanced down. Lunch Box was holstered on my right side. I hadn't even noticed. "So did I," I said, puzzled.

She looked curious. "Desert Eagle?"

"I believe the technical term is just Deagle," I said.

"Oh."

"But this one's called Lunch Box."

"You Americans really are crazy."

"I'm not American," I said defensively. "I'm Chinese-Canadian."

"You sound American."

Funny she should mention the way I sounded, because I could listen to her accent all day. Embarrassingly, this was probably the best date I'd ever been on. But before I could sink all the way back to having the mind of a high school kid, there was something I had to know.

"Where are we going?"

Velvet got out her PDA and called up her map. "Even without satellite updates, it still shows more or less how things are, okay?"

"Sure."

She bit her lip and looked down at the map. "I wish we had coverage," she sighed. "Anything could be going on out there."

"But where are we going?"

"The Red Forest."

"Oh." That was a place I'd heard and read quite a bit about it. None of it had made me want to visit. "What are we doing there?"

"Searching. The man we wanted to see on the boat – he was going to be our guide. Without him, we'll just have to try our luck."

"In the Forest?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how much land that covers?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Or I did, before this." She scowled at her PDA and put it away. "Though I've hardly been this far north. It'll be a learning experience. Wandering around the Forest with no map and no guide, and just the two of us – it'll be magical. I can hardly wait."

She wasn't fooling anybody – she was still as tense as she had been before, and she was probably just as scared as I was. But she was making an effort for my sake, and I appreciated it. It still didn't feel right. Gender roles, man.

The trees thinned out, and we had a couple of kilometers of open ground to cross before we hit the real Forest. Hilly ground, by the looks of it – soon we were climbing.

"Still going to go through with your year?" I asked.

"I will. You?"

"I don't know."

"Take the girls. Help them in the real world. It's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

"No comment."

"It's a good idea."

"You don't think I'm a wimp for wanting to go?"

Velvet slipped, and I reached back to help her, but she ignored my hand and continued to climb.

"Not really. Whatever point you needed to make to yourself, you've probably already made, just in these past few days. But the girls won't go."

"What?" That stopped me in my tracks. "Why not?"

"Because the Zone has its hooks in the young one. You could drag her out, but she'd just come back. And the sister won't leave her."

"You really think so?"

"I've seen it before." Velvet was perspiring. So was I. It was actually warm. Pleasantly warm – but the climb was good exercise without being dangerous. The grass was dry, so we just had to watch out for loose rocks. I brushed off my hands and started again. Velvet had pulled ahead, but what she said bothered me so much I couldn't enjoy the view.

"But why?" I asked. "Why would she want to stay?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Velvet called back as she crested the hill. She sat down, breathing heavily. I reached her, coming into view of the valley below.

A gargantuan anomaly dominated it, a pit larger than a football field, surrounded by protrusions of earth that curled into the air as though someone had reached down and taken a scoop out of the world. The grassy slopes were dotted with blinking anomalies, making the entire valley shimmer in the sunlight. A couple of fluffy clouds decorated the sky overhead. In the distance, a herd of dark shapes was rolling playfully through the hills. In the other direction, a group of stalkers was walking through waist-high grass, heading south.

Ahead lay the Forest. In this light it didn't look dark. Or particularly red, for that matter. Beyond, I could see the real darkness on the horizon – but today, even the perpetual clouds over Chernobyl NPP looked small and unimportant against the blue of the sky. The only sound was the wind.

I got the message, but it takes more than nice scenery to make you want to spend your year in the most dangerous place on earth. As beautiful – and mysteriously magnetic – as the Zone was, I knew perfectly well there were places I'd rather be. I looked over at Velvet, framed against the scene. You know – blue eyes, rosy cheeks, blonde hair in the breeze. I sighed. It wasn't fair. The Zone cheats.


	42. Chapter 42

Freedom

Chapter 42

So apparently there are anomalies everywhere – but not all anomalies are created equal. They seem to come in all sizes and flavors – like the real common ones that throw things in the air, or the electric ones, you know – but then there are these big ones. Typically considered good artifact hunting grounds, they're some of the Zone's main landmarks, and people even give them names. Weird names. Maybe they're less weird if you're Russian or Ukrainian. I'm not.

Well, the good news was that it was a beautiful day and there was no evident danger. The bad news that this gigantic anomaly was not supposed to be here. I took Velvet at her word when she said that; though she also claimed not to have much experience with this territory. I figured she was as credible as anybody, and she was adamant that this thing did not belong.

She wouldn't swear that something like this was unprecedented, but she was convinced that when the Zone made changes, it made them with more subtlety. No working maps. Huge, jarring changes. Even a rookie like me could see where this was going.

It was a brave new Zone out there. The unwritten and fluid rules of the Zone that stalkers lived by – it looked they were getting revised. Or maybe just thrown out the window.

Just like my plans for the day.

"Got your detector?"

Uh oh. But I wasn't going to lie about it – I'd gone ahead and picked one up when I re-stocked. "Yeah," I sighed. If she picked up on my lack of enthusiasm, she didn't show it. I understood the situation – here was a brand-new anomaly, and maybe we were the first to stumble upon it. Of course the smart thing to do was to check for artifacts – but I just didn't like the idea of getting any closer. If I have to deal with something dangerous, I want it to be something I can understand on some level. Nobody understands anomalies. That makes them, at least to me, even scarier than mutants.

But I followed Velvet down into the valley, and we picked our way closer to the crater. She went left and I went right, detector in one hand, Geiger counter in the other.

Hunting for artifacts is tedious, but not boring, because you have to watch your step. I made it all the way around the rim without getting any viable readings. Either there was nothing here, or someone had already poached the place clean. Can you poach artifacts? I guess not. Anyway, Velvet was near a particularly intense anomaly, and I correctly guessed that she'd found something.

She didn't want to get close, because the anomaly put her hand on pins and needles when she reached for it.

"It's getting better," she said, flexing her hand. "I'm getting feeling back."

Curious, I extended my own right hand. I didn't feel anything amiss. I took a step closer. Velvet looked on with interest, but I was ignoring her, and concentrating on my footing – the last thing you want to do in that situation is slip and fall. I was close. I leaned down and reached into the fluctuating light. I came out with a couple of what looked to me like marbles. Made of actual marble – black with white streaks. I stepped back and swept my Geiger counter over them. They seemed safe enough.

"I've never seen this before," Velvet said, and she took a step closer – then immediately backed up.

"What?"

"I can still feel it. You can't?"

"I feel normal."

She looked puzzled, but shook her head. "I've never even _heard_ of something like this. You hold onto it. That's a small fortune."

I looked down at the marbles. "You think so?"

She nodded.

"Whatever." I put them in my pocket. "Can we go?"

Artifacts – generally found around anomalies, they're usually small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Some stalkers use them as good luck charms, and claim they help them deal with the Zone. I don't think anyone takes that seriously. No – but highly anomalous material has enormous value to scientists, and the market value of these artifacts is staggering if you can hang onto them long enough to find a buyer on the outside.

Velvet didn't ask why I was able to reach into the anomaly, and that was just as well. I didn't have an answer for her. It was my right hand, obviously – but it wasn't like I could explain. I wanted to take off my glove and look, but I wasn't going to do that in front of her.

So we started walking again. The forest was getting bigger and darker on the horizon.

I don't know what a Ukrainian forest is supposed to look like. I don't know what an irradiated Ukrainian forest is supposed to look like, either. But it wouldn't look like this.

Towering trees, thick with sickly-looking vegetation. Low-slung creepers, and very little sunlight. Everything is damp, and the air is thick with the smell of decay. Mushrooms the size of footstools, and fungus that probably has a mind of its own. I know the whole forest isn't like that, but this was the frontier closest to the channel.

We'd barely entered the shadow of the Forest – but already the sounds of the open air were muted and distant. The Forest, and whatever anomalous field made it so critically different from the rest of the Zone, had us now.

Everyone knows about the Red Forest – but not from experience. Second only to the Center, the Forest is the most sought-after, and the most dangerous location in the perimeter.

As long as people have been paying attention, there has been a small, but dedicated cadre of stalkers in the Forest. We don't know too much about them. I think Freedom used to have a hand in it, but Velvet was too busy running her rookie camp to know anything about that.

The Forest is too deadly for scientists. Too much trouble for the Military. Too dangerous for Duty. Only the most infamous bandits will risk hiding beyond the tree line – and those that try are rarely seen again, not that bandits have a very long life expectancy to begin with.

We were just a few steps in, and already I'd come closer and deeper than most stalkers ever would. When you need to get to the other side of the Forest, you don't go through, you go around. Everyone knows that.

We could hear movement in the underbrush. There was an unnatural rustling in the trees above. There were no crows. Crows were too smart to come here.

But here was Velvet, and with a guy she neither knew nor trusted.

It was then that I realized there was something wrong with her. She was smart – smart, and careful. She had to know that doing this, coming here – especially with me – was tactically unsound on every possible level. I knew she could trust me, but she didn't. And even if she did, two against the Forest? Who were we kidding? Before it had seemed crazy – but in a detached kind of way. Now we were here, and I could see just how far out of our depth we were.

Why? Why would she knowingly put herself in danger this way? Actually – how could I ask that? When I'd lost it before – even when I'd so quickly and foolishly signed up to fight in the pit I'd been doing the same thing.

I knew she had baggage – you didn't have to be a detective to see that much – but this was pushing it.

I watched her walk. She just kept going. Fearless.

No one's fearless in the Red Forest. Even my right hand couldn't fully suppress my anxiety. I didn't know why Velvet was so determined to get herself into trouble, but I did know that I wasn't going to find out by asking.

This was a bad idea. I knew it. She knew it.

I came to up on a stone floor. My weapons were gone. So was my armor. I was wearing – I was wearing something else. I got up to see myself in the light coming through the doorway. Ragged clothes underneath a baggy black bandit coat. I didn't want to be seen in that. I shrugged out of it, feeling a sharp chill – but even as disoriented as I was, I knew being mistaken for a bandit was more dangerous than the cold.

I left the room. The corridor was open to the air – and I was on a high floor. Below lay a ruined street, on the other side of which was another of the enormous tenement buildings that you see in an around Pripyat.

I looked left, then right. There was a corner down there, and presumably stairs. I headed that way. I didn't know how I'd gotten here, but I had to take my bearings. I didn't get the chance. A figure in black armor came rushing out of the stairwell, gun raised.

He wasn't a big guy, but he knew what he was doing. He was too close for the gun, and a combat knife flashed out. I blocked and parried, then spun and drove my heel squarely into his abdomen. He reeled backward, tripping over his own feet and going down the stairs. I rushed to the top, only to see him at the bottom, lying still. The angle of the head left no ambiguity about the state of his neck.

Detached by my shock, I stared for several long moments, regaining my breath. Everything was quiet. The body didn't move. At length, I went down, and knelt to pull off the mask. Death certainly hadn't made Velvet any less beautiful.


	43. Chapter 43

Freedom

Chapter 43

During the brief fight – if you can call it that – there had been no time to recognize that the suspiciously short soldier in black had a conspicuously generous bust. I'd been occupied with guns, knives, and martial arts skills almost to rival my own.

Now Velvet was lying in front of me with a broken neck. She had attacked me. There was no shortage of light. The sky overhead was dark and gray, but we could see. She would have recognized me, even in these clothes. I'd left the coat behind – there couldn't have been any confusion. It was impossible. She had seen me and tried to kill me. I'd jumped the gun a little when I knocked her pistol out of her hand, but instead of backing off she'd pulled a knife. How could I explain that? I couldn't.

I sat down against the wall in shock. I couldn't take my eyes off the corpse – and after six days in the Zone, I knew a corpse when I saw one. On impulse, I got up and crawled over to her to look more closely. It was her. There was no two ways about it. You don't forget Velvet's face once you've seen it.

I felt sick. I got up and staggered down the stairs. It was only the third floor – but it felt like I had to go down a long way to reach the ground. I bent over, but the nausea was content just to be there, so I straightened and staggered into the street, as though getting away from the building would help me breathe easier. It was snowing, and I began to hear a rumbling behind me.

As I turned, a sizeable tank rounded the corner. I'm not an expert on these things. I couldn't tell you what kind it was. It was big. It ground to a halt. The top – you know, the bit with the cannon, turned ponderously toward me. I'd just killed Velvet and I was about to get vaporized by a tank. Only one thing came to mind.

"Are you freaking serious?" I asked. My voice echoed in the empty street. Nothing happened for several moments.

A hatch on top of the tank opened, and a figure in black emerged – just shoulders and a head, hidden by a black mask and helmet. I stared at it. It stared back, then slumped over. I saw a trickle of blood run down the side of the tank.

There were running footsteps behind me. I turned. A figure was making its way toward me. It wore solid olive drab fatigues in a decidedly old-fashioned cut – like a World War II-era GI. And under the oversized, round, green GI helmet was blonde hair. I stared in disbelief. It was Velvet. There was a BAR slung over her shoulder, and on her narrow back, it looked frighteningly big. She appeared to be struggling with its weight.

She ran right up to me, grabbed me by the shoulder, and started dragging me out of the road. This couldn't be Velvet. Not just because Velvet was dead, but because Velvet doesn't touch people. She doesn't even like being near me. But here she was, if you'll pardon me, my shocked brain was thinking some peculiar things: large as life, twice as pretty.

She pulled me around the corner, pushed me against the wall, and leaned out to look at the tank. It just sat there.

A shot rang out somewhere in the distance, and she turned to look, but then looked back to me.

"Who the hell are you?"

I blinked down at her. "What?"

"What is your name? Where do you come from?"

I didn't get a chance to answer, or even process that – because someone started shooting at us. She pushed me down and pivoted, unslinging the BAR and opening fire. The recoil drove her back into the wall, where she slipped on the rubble and fell down.

I saw a black-armored figure emerge from an alley, but before it could open fire again, it dropped dead in the middle of the road. She had been masked, and the black fatigues were a little ambiguous – but the blonde hair and the figure are hard to hide. That was another Velvet, and I was ready to bet that had been one in the tank, too.

The – the, uh – GI Velvet was getting to her feet, grimacing in pain and rubbing her backside. She picked up her BAR and shouldered it, looking up and waving. A figure on a nearby rooftop waved back and disappeared.

"We can't talk here," she said, hustling me down the street. Her helmet kept slipping over her eyes.

There were running footsteps, and GI Velvet looked back in panic as yet another Velvet in black burst from an alley we'd just passed. I tensed – but GI Velvet relaxed. The newcomer fell into step, jogging along with us. She was wearing black, but it wasn't the ominous tactical gear the others wore. She had on a long black coat over black clothes. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses – but I recognized her easily enough. I decided this one was Matrix Velvet.

"Who the hell is this?" she panted.

"I don't know," GI Velvet replied. "We have to get him to the line."

"There's more than we thought."

"I can see that."

"Down!"

We dove behind a particularly large pile of rubble as something screamed past overhead. I didn't get a good look at it, but I thought it was some kind of unmanned drone.

GI Velvet swallowed. "That's not good."

"Where'd they get that kind of tech?" Matrix Velvet demanded.

"No time."

We were running again. I didn't say anything. What could I say? What would you say? Would I ask them who they were? I could see who they were. Whatever drugs I was on, I hoped I lived long enough to find out what they were.

A troop of black armored Velvets poured out of an alley ahead, and we skidded to a halt. They raised their weapons.

There was a sound that was, even under the circumstances, to me, unmistakable – the deployment of a lightsaber

A Velvet in Jedi robes sprang down between us and the troop of soldiers, charging straight into them. A couple of broad swings cut down half of them, and she whirled, throwing out a hand, pushing the rest off their feet. I didn't get to see any more, because GI and Matrix Velvets were dragging me up and away.

As we passed an alley, I saw a figure jump the gap high above, keeping pace with us on the rooftops.

"Who's that?"

They ignored me, steering me down a side street. I could hear something loud – but that's all I can tell you about it. It was loud. There was a burst of machine gun fire in the distance. We were approaching a wide street.

"Wait." Matrix Velvet dragged us both to a halt. She pressed herself to the side of the building and peered out. "No good," she reported.

"Can we go around?"

"And leave them here? Have you got smoke?"

GI Velvet nodded. "Just one."

"Do it."

She pulled the pin and threw it around the corner. I heard it begin to hiss. Matrix Velvet pulled off her sunglasses and tossed them aside, reaching up to smooth back her blonde hair. That done, she walked boldly around the corner, straight into a hail of gunfire.

"You are _nothing_ to me!" She vanished without a trace – or I think she did, but I'm not sure, because suddenly GI Velvet and I were running through the smoke and trying to stay under all the bullets. I definitely heard some chaos from the direction of the shooters, but that was all I got before I was led through the wall of a bombed-out building and out the other side. From there it was an alley – then through another building. Then more running.

As a bomb exploded less than a block away, leveling an entire building, I didn't even think about it. I paid no attention as the structure crumbled in front of my eyes, throwing up great clouds of dust and debris, things I'd only seen in movies.

I didn't care, because I was in a war zone. A war zone populated by Velvets. Conspicuously recognizably dressed Velvets, no less. If that situation would have been comprehensible to you, then my hat's off – but it wasn't to me. I had no explanation for it. All I could do was run – following GI Velvet even deeper down the rabbit hole.


	44. Chapter 44

Freedom

Chapter 44

It wasn't the home stretch, even if Matrix – or rather, Wesker Velvet had stayed back to cover our escape. GI Velvet and I were held up in another building, looking down at a street, where a seemingly endless line of – of whats? What were these dozens of identical Velvets in black armor that were marching in ranks?

She pushed up her helmet, which had slipped over her eyes again, and peered down. "Too many," she said. "We can't travel right now. We'll have to wait for dark." She grabbed me to pull me away – but stopped.

"What is it?"

"Look." She pointed.

Down the road, directly in the path of the marching Dark Velvets, another figure had stepped into the road. It was, of course, another Velvet – but this one was dressed differently. To me, it looked like she was wearing a prom dress. An odd choice when it was snowing, but there was no time to think about fashion – the Dark Velvets were heading for her.

"Shouldn't we do something?"

"Too many," GI Velvet said sadly, watching them knock – er, Prom Dress Velvet – down. The beating began. GI Velvet looked on with a grimace, and I just watched too, because I didn't believe any of this was real. That didn't make it easy. You can't see violence done to someone – especially someone you like – and not feel anything.

We couldn't see much, though – there were so many Dark Velvets around that most of the actual action was obscured. We just watched all the dark shapes moving around, and heard the muffled sounds. It went on for a while. I'd have liked to leave, but GI Velvet just crouched there and watched, so I did the same.

In time, the dark shapes moved off down the street, leaving a scene I didn't expect. They'd strapped together a sort of rough cross, and planted it in the rubble. Prom Dress Velvet was hanging on it, torn and bleeding.

"Jesus," I said. I wasn't even trying to be clever. My confusion had just gone to the next level. "She's still alive."

"Yeah." GI Velvet got to her feet and leaned out the window, scanning the street. "Wait here."

I had, in some way, decided that she was in charge – so I did as I was told. She headed down the steps, and a moment later I saw her emerge below, keeping low and crossing the street as cautiously as she could. She'd left her BAR behind, and it was clear that she could move a lot better without it.

A bomb went off somewhere not too far away – and there was a brief rattle of gunfire. Then the ruins were quiet again.

The sudden gunshot startled me. The Velvet on the cross sagged. The GI Velvet lowered the .45 she'd used to execute her. Disbelieving, I watched her hurry back to the building.

"Why did you do that?" I hissed. I mean – it was pretty obviously who the good Velvets and bad Velvets were, right? The ones looking out for me, and not being hostile without provocation were the good ones. That meant the ones in black were the bad ones. She'd just shot one of the good ones.

"She'd just turn into one of them," the GI Velvet said. The seriousness on her face was jarring, especially with her childlike appearance in the oversized uniform. She tucked away the pistol and picked up the BAR. "Come on."

I gave up and followed her deeper into the building. What would you have done? Far from any of the rooms facing the streets, we finally stopped to wait. She leaned her BAR against the wall and sat down beside it. I joined her.

"We'll move when it's darker," she promised.

"Where are we?"

She turned to me and raised an eyebrow. Then her helmet slipped down and covered both eyes. Scowling, she pulled it off and set it aside. "Uh – east sector."

"Of what?"

"What do you mean of what?"

"Of what?"

"Of… the city."

I stared at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm a soldier."

"I can see that. Do you have a name?"

She cocked her head and looked at me like I was insane. And all things considered, that seemed very possible. I've never done drugs, but I imagine if I did, there would probably be something like this.

"I'm either on drugs," I said aloud, still staring at her. "…or I'm dreaming."

"You're not dreaming," GI Velvet said, and she sounded very confident.

"This isn't real. None of it is."

"How sure are you?"

"This sure." I leaned over and kissed her. To my surprise, she reacted positively. But I shouldn't have been surprised, right? It was a dream – things happen the way you want them to in a dream, right? This was something I'd been thinking about quite a bit lately, and she was just as soft and warm as I'd imagined. I pushed her down and got started on her uniform, but someone cleared her throat behind me.

I looked up guiltily. I hadn't wanted this to happen. These Velvets weren't following dream rules. It was Matrix – or Wesker Velvet – or whatever. She stood in the doorway, arms folded, expression mild. And there I was. I leapt off of GI Velvet who, blushing hotly, sat up and started to button her uniform. Cut off before second base. I suppressed my fury.

Wordlessly, Wesker Velvet sat down against the opposite wall and sighed. "Glad to see you're doing well," she said to GI Velvet, who coughed and straightened up.

"Are you okay?"

Wesker Velvet produced a very distinctive, heavily-customized handgun. She ejected the magazine, which dropped to the ground. "I am completely out of ammunition." She paused, and without her sunglasses, I could see that she looked rather lost. "That's never happened to me before." She let go of the gun, and it thudded to the floor as well. With that, she put her head in her hands, and didn't say anything else.

Well, I didn't have anything to say to her, and no way was I going to make eye contact with GI Velvet now, so things got pretty awkward. But not for long. Jedi Velvet showed up about ten very long minutes later. She looked tired out. Nobody said anything. She just sat beside Wesker Velvet, sat back, closed her eyes, and a minute or two later, began to snore adorably.

If only there was some tea, the whole Alice in Wonderland thing would have been complete. I could see that it was getting darker from the amount of ambient light in the room – but none of the Velvets were moving, so neither did I. It was cold, and I was hungry. That seemed off. You don't get hungry in a dream, do you? That seemed off. I tried to think about how I'd gotten here. What was the last thing I remembered? Well… there was the fight at Kevorich. And there was the soft bed. And Velvet. But not, damn it, at the same time. And there was us setting off into the Zone. It was foggy. I rubbed at my eyes – but not because I was tired, because I definitely wasn't.

All I could see was the face of the Velvet I'd killed. And the one that GI Velvet had executed. This was the stuff of nightmares.

Another Velvet appeared in the doorway. This one was wearing a big trench coat, big sun glasses, and had a cigarette in her mouth. She sat down beside me, looked at me with her opaque sunglasses, then flicked her cigarette at me. I brushed it off before it could burn me, puzzled. She took out a hundred dollar bill, lit it with her lighter, then used it to light another cigarette, which she leaned back and puffed at it for a while. I recognized this one – but I didn't recognize the next one.

She was wearing a skin-tight costume, more of a leotard, cut high at the leg, white with a red cape, and a nice big opening to show off incredible cleavage. I didn't recognize it. I didn't get the reference, and that disturbed me. How could there be something in my dream that I didn't know about? This was being generated by my brain, but this was completely new to me. It was impossible.

Quietly disturbed, I watched her sit down on the other side of GI Velvet. They weren't all being still like statues, but they weren't talking, and they weren't really fidgeting. It was a little creepy, what with them all being identical and everything – and yet it was hard to stay creeped out when it was so easy to be distracted by the one in the leotard. I resisted the urge to discreetly ogle her, and turned back to GI Velvet, maybe to apologize – but she'd nodded off.

I pinched myself. It didn't work.


	45. Chapter 45

Freedom

Chapter 45

So you probably can't imagine what it felt like to be me just then. I mean, was I even alive? Hell wouldn't have Velvet, and Heaven wouldn't have people hurting each other. But I wasn't dreaming. At first I hadn't been sure, but there are things you can and can't do in dreams, even lucid dreams, ways you can and can't think. I'm not an expert, but I know that much.

Dreams are supposed to seem real to you when you're in them – but not always. This seemed pretty real, but at the same time it wasn't. There was something about it that I couldn't put my finger on.

But look, it wasn't a normal dream. And I certainly wasn't awake. And I was beginning to think I probably wasn't on drugs, because I felt pretty clear and in control. I was confused, sure – who wouldn't be? But I wasn't drugged. And that didn't leave a lot of options. In fact, I didn't feel like it left any, which made me a little suspicious – but my brain wasn't following orders. I wanted to think about that, about what my mind didn't want me thinking about – but at the same time I didn't. I wanted to think about the present.

The Velvets weren't going to explain things to me – in fact, I doubted they understood it any better than I did.

I realized with a start that I was the only one who was awake. It's hard to look too closely at Velvet – you're just struck by the perfection of her face, or something else – you don't notice that she looks tired. But these Velvets were exhausted. I guess that made sense – they were in a war, and I was getting the impression that they weren't on the winning side. The Hong Kong Velvet was leaning on Wesker Velvet. I wished GI Velvet would do that and lean on me. She didn't. She just hugged her BAR and slept.

I sighed and went quietly to the door. Someone had to keep watch. I didn't know who – or what – these Velvets were, but right now they were helpless.

The street was quiet and empty. I didn't hear any distant shooting. Or much of anything, really. It was dead quiet. Unnaturally so. The falling snow probably muffled things a bit, but there was no wind, nothing. We were on a plane of complete silence.

On impulse, I crept away from the door. There was no apparent danger, and I didn't plan to leave the Velvets alone for long. I found some stairs and headed upward. I climbed and climbed. These buildings were tall.

One thing had bothered me at the back of my mind as GI Velvet dragged me through the city. The architecture wasn't consistent. There were a lot of these big, Pripyat-style tenements, but there was a lot of other stuff, too – most of it unfamiliar to me. That was alarming for the same reason the oddly costumed Velvet was – I didn't see how my mind could've come up with it.

So I kept climbing. I didn't just burst onto the roof – this was a war zone, and there was at least one sniper out there – so I stayed low, and moved carefully, but I had to take the lay of the land.

The view was unique. Nobody's ever seen anything like what I saw. The patchwork architecture was even more apparent from up here, and the strangeness was accented by the damage caused by the fighting. But I wasn't even interested in that – I was looking beyond the city.

We were in a valley. A vast valley, surrounded on all sides by spectacular, snow-capped mountains. There was nowhere like this – nowhere on Earth, at any rate. And there were no words anyway. No advertisements or signs – all the buildings were plain and unadorned.

I wasn't high enough to have a real bird's eye view of the city, but I could see three major landmarks. Going by the position of the sun, I was looking east, at a great, dark, fortress. Like Castle Grayskull on steroids. Directly opposite it, far to the west, there was a much more pleasant-looking building. Maybe I'd have called it a palace. And in the center of the city I saw bright lights. I didn't know what they were – but they were spectacular and flashing, though there was no sound. The ambient colors from those lights splashed across the surrounding buildings.

We were relatively close to the lights, just east of them.

I can't really describe the feeling these discoveries were giving me. I was in a whole new world. There was nowhere like this in the Zone or anywhere. So I went back down to the Velvets, who were still sleeping. It was definitely getting darker out, so this place did have a day and night cycle.

I didn't have a good way to gauge time, but I estimate about twenty long minutes later, GI Velvet came to, followed by the others. They all got up, yawning, stretching, and gathering their equipment.

"Ready?" GI Velvet asked me.

"I guess," I replied, for lack of anything better.

So we crept out of the building and started sneaking. Sneaking was pretty easy; night was falling, and the snow made moving around pretty quiet. It was amazingly uneventful, though fraught with small distractions and annoyances. I got to walk behind the costumed Velvet, but the cape took all the fun out of it.

We were joined about a block away by yet another Velvet, this one dressed in ordinary civilian clothes, like blue jeans and a parka. She had no weapon, but she wasn't like the completely passive Prom Dress Velvet. I didn't know what to think of her. The others greeted her like they were all old friends.

Wesker Velvet made us stop, and we hid as a large patrol of Dark Velvets passed. They marched like Storm Troopers. Storm Troopers with M4s. We watched them, holding our collective breath. I didn't know what would happen if I died in this place, but I wasn't in an adventurous mood. I didn't even know what kind of mood I was in. I wasn't on drugs, but my mind was – well, something wasn't quite in place. That was frustrating.

Soon we were moving again. It was clear to me now that we were heading west, straight for the lights. I wondered if I'd get to see the palace. It had to be pretty spectacular up close.

At first I thought the source of the lights had to be a casino – it really did look like something you'd see on the strip – but I was wrong. It was a theater. An old-fashioned movie theater with the most incredible marquee you've ever seen. It was enormous, the size of a stadium, and the lightshow stretched far up into the night sky. It was so amazing that I actually saw the theater before I saw the barricade and the guns. The theater itself had taken some hits, and the marquee was badly damaged. As best as I could make out, it read:

R GNH LD R M TAD

And a line of ravens – the first wildlife I'd seen – were perched silently above the letters. I had a feeling this was the line one of the Velvets had mentioned. Defensive fortifications, lots of Velvets. Some I recognized, but others I didn't. I catch references to mainstream movies and comic books and stuff, but these Velvets were from all over. It was immediately clear to me they weren't just themed after entertainment. There was a Coca-Cola Velvet, for example. A Chef Velvet with a cleaver. Many, many of them in what I'd call normal clothes, though some of the outfits seemed familiar. There were also a few that I wanted desperately to hang around and ogle, but GI Velvet was dragging me toward a large tent in front of the Marquee. The other Velvets were looking at me with curiosity, but suddenly things were moving quickly, and I was inside.

There were about a dozen Velvets in there, and only GI Velvet came in with me. I won't bore you with the ones that I recognized – but I'll tell you this – whoever made the rules for this place, whoever picked what these Velvets wore, they liked to watch movies.

GI Velvet brought me to another Velvet with a cigar and an eye patch. I knew exactly who she was supposed to be, and that meant she was probably in charge. This was clearly some kind of command tent.

"What is this?"

"I don't know. I found him east of here, standing in the street like an idiot."

"But what is he?"

"I don't know." She was blushing, but just a little. I felt bad. In retrospect, kissing her had been a very wrong thing to do. But I wouldn't apologize. On the contrary – I'd remember Velvet's lips for the rest of my life. But I was trapped in a world that was not, strictly speaking, reality – or at least not the one I was used to – so it wasn't clear to me how long that would be. My gut told me this was all real, but I just didn't see how that was possible.

I didn't get long to think about it, and the conversation between GI Velvet and Velvet Fury was cut short, because the flaps of the tent opened, and the White Queen and her entourage came in.


	46. Chapter 46

Freedom

Chapter 46

Okay, maybe calling her the White Queen wasn't quite right – but that was the impression I got. She didn't carry herself any differently from the rest of the Velvets, but she was wearing a big white gown, and there's something queenly about that, and the entourage helped sell it. It took me several moments to realize the dress was a wedding gown. It was breathtaking, but I'll spare you the details.

The Velvets in the tent didn't react the way I expected them too. Velvet Fury exploded, demanding to know what she was doing there, and all hell broke loose. GI Velvet and I quickly got out of the way as the others bustled around, shouting at each other.

"No – no, I don't want to hear it, take her back, take her back now, I don't care," Velvet Fury raged. Before anything else could happen, a Velvet in black ninja garb burst into the tent.

"They were spotted. They're coming."

The mass swearing that followed was epic, because though the Velvets were all dressed differently, and some even had different hairstyles – most notably the Princess Leia one – they all spoke exactly the same way, all with Velvet's functional English and heavy Norwegian accent. And to hear a whole chorus of that voice all swearing – unforgettable.

Despite the bizarre nature of the situation, I actually felt like I understood it. At least this part. This Velvet in white was obviously quite the VIP, and enemy scouts must have seen her on her way here. The Dark Velvet forces were mobilizing to strike while she was in the open. I mean, she had to have come from the palace, right? Of course.

The Light Velvets had this theater, which was, in video game terms, clearly the critical control point. Now the Dark Velvets could try to take the point, and at the same time make an attempt on this VIP character in white. It was the obvious move.

I was pretty sure that was what was going on. The entourage, cowed by Velvet Fury's fury, was ushering Bride Velvet toward the entrance. I couldn't help but notice how happy she looked. Not thrilled with the situation, but just good-natured in general. The glow on her face made her almost difficult to recognize as Velvet at all, since you never saw her with a face like that in the real world. She was being guided by her aides, not really moving for herself. She hadn't said anything at all. Maybe she didn't even know where she was. She just beamed at everyone – even me for a moment – as they pushed her out of the tent and led her away.

I watched her go, not because I was concerned with her peculiar state, but because Velvet in a wedding dress is even more lovely to look at than Poison Ivy Velvet, Baywatch Velvet, Harley Quinn Velvet and my other favorite, who I would later learn was Power Girl Velvet. The Bride Velvet had them all beat. I was turning into a bit of a Velvet connoisseur. To answer my own question, yes, it is possible to fall completely in love with someone without admitting it to yourself. But for the record, even if I hadn't been in love with her, she still would've been gorgeous.

I'm getting distracted. Which is appropriate, because the situation was nothing if not distracting – but getting back to things. Velvet Fury was shouting orders. Velvets were hurrying around, getting ready for the attack. GI Velvet was shaking me.

"What?"

"Go with them."

"Why?"

"You don't belong here. They'll figure out what to do with you."

"Are you going to be okay? Can you guys hold this place?"

She shook her head. "But we can buy enough time for her to get back to the palace. You have to go with her."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I'll help." I was in a precarious mental place. One part of me was convinced this was real, but my mind couldn't reconcile itself to that. But just because on some intellectual level I knew this couldn't be real didn't mean I couldn't feel like it mattered – and I felt like it did. I felt like abandoning this Velvet – GI Velvet – would be like abandoning the real one. And that was something I wouldn't do. So what if I'd only known her for like a week? Guys had done dumber stuff based on feelings developed in a lot less time than that.

There was a rack of AKs right by the entrance. I picked one up. "I'll help," I repeated.

Velvet Fury appeared beside us. "I guess I won't get to hear your report," she said breathlessly to GI Velvet.

"You have to protect her," she replied.

Velvet Fury nodded, looking grim. "I know."

"It's been an honor."

"The honor is mine."

At any other time, I would've burst out laughing. But they looked deadly serious. I swallowed as Velvet Fury picked up a rifle and hurried after Bride Velvet and her companions. GI Velvet was leaving the tent, and I went with her. Before she had seemed awkward, even bumbling – but not now. She gave orders, and the other Velvets followed them without question. I saw a Velvet dressed like a Fireman – or Firewoman – herding some unarmed, generic-looking Velvets away. A Velvet in a rubber suit – here was the real Matrix Velvet, there had to be one – was loading a minigun. Jedi Velvet was giving instructions to Ninja Velvet, Samurai Velvet, and assorted other sword or melee-wielding ones. A Velvet in a ghillie suit was getting into position over the Marquis, readying an enormous sniper rifle.

It was very dark now, and snowing more heavily. I followed GI Velvet up and down the line as she marshaled the other Velvets.

Soon the two of us were standing behind the sand bags, right in front of the theater, right in the center of the line. We gazed at the dark streets ahead.

"They came from under the city," she said abruptly.

"What?"

She pointed down. "It used to be we had it all, and they barely ever showed up. Then they started coming more, and we had to fight every day." She looked wistful. "Then one day, they all came. All at once. Before we knew it they had a foothold in the east. We lost more and more of the city. Now there's hardly anything left."

I took that in. "You're not all combatants?"

"We are now. Almost. There aren't many left who don't fight." She shook her head sadly. "You can't have a city of nothing but soldiers. This is the end."

"What do you mean?"

"If we hold the theater, there's hope."

"And if we don't?"

"Then it's finished. We'll never fight our way back this far. We weren't much of an army even before the war," she said, shoulders sagging. She looked around quickly to make sure none of the other Velvets were seeing this. "We were never meant to be an army in the first place. If you want to know the truth, we hate fighting more than anything." A pause. "But now it's all we do."

"Then we just have to hold the line."

She smiled sadly. "Yes."

She didn't think we could do it. And she would know better than I did. I looked down at the AK in my hands. My right hand was normal here. Without it acting up, I got to be reminded what fear felt like. For the first time since I'd touched that anomalous vine, I wasn't looking forward to a fight.

GI Velvet looked a little choked up. She was right – she wasn't cut out for this. Now that she'd mentioned it, and I was thinking back on what I'd seen, I'd seen things to corroborate it. The fear on Wesker Velvet's face when she went around that corner. GI Velvet's incompetence. Her tough act when she executed Prom Dress Velvet. Bride Velvet, the clueless leader.

The fact that none of these Velvets were actually real soldiers – they were all just outfits from movies and comic books.

I did the only thing I could think of, and put my arms around her. She should have protested, but she didn't.

My quiet amusement at all of this had been fading for a while. Now it was gone entirely. This wasn't funny, it was sick. Dangerous thoughts were entering my mind, and the idea that this was hell was becoming increasingly believable. I'd seen the numbers that the Dark Velvets had, and their weapons. This rag-tag little army didn't have any tanks or drones, and just in that one marching column, the Dark Velvets had more soldiers than we did – and that couldn't have been all of them. I held GI Velvet a little tighter.

"Can't we retreat?"

"Can't give up this position no matter what," she said into my chest. I stroked her hair and tried to think of something, but I had nothing. Then I saw something that chilled my blood.

A Velvet was jogging past, one I hadn't seen before. She wore modified motorcycle armor, a mask, and carried an AK-105. Her right hand was gloved. She wasn't Asian, though, she was Velvet. A Velvet dressed up as me.

I didn't get to think about it long though, because that was when the shooting started.


	47. Chapter 47

Freedom

Chapter 47

I've done combat. I've never done battle. Unless you count hanging like a side of meat in the middle of one. Dark silhouettes were coming out of the snowy haze; the line opened fire. Bullets, arrows, beams of energy – you name it, and the Velvets on this side of the emplacement were throwing it. GI Velvet had her BAR set up, bipod down, and was firing, braced against the recoil.

Dark Velvets were going down by the dozen, but they didn't seem to mind. I'd been planning for the worst, but even I had underestimated the size of the army. I put the AK to my shoulder and started shooting. There was no shortage of targets. I had landed bullets back in the real world – more of them than I was happy about. But this was different. These Dark Velvets just didn't care. They were tough, too. There was a whole crate of ammunition, so that wasn't a problem – but even though the fire from the line seemed overwhelming, it seemed like the dark shapes were gaining ground.

Bullets whizzed by, but not enough of them. Not all of the attacking Velvets had guns, or if they did, they weren't using them, and that bothered me. I was focused on the job at hand – and that was just putting the sights on a shape, pulling the trigger twice, and moving to the next one.

But I could only shoot so many. Maybe the other Velvets weren't meant to be an army, but they weren't bad at it. They were pulling their weight – but it wasn't enough to stop the push. I saw GI Velvet cast a worried glance over her shoulder, no doubt thinking about Bride Velvet and Velvet Fury. Not a lot of time had passed – they probably hadn't gotten far. It was hard to picture them moving very quickly – but we were definitely losing ground now.

That was when it started getting bad. Not that it had ever been good – but so far I hadn't been forced to watch anything like what was coming. Wesker Velvet vanished, then reappeared in the middle of the charging Dark Velvets, dealing out some really fearsome blows – until one of them plunged a knife into her exposed back in a moment of carelessness.

She fell down, very dead. The bodies of the Dark Velvets turned to ash after a little while, but Wesker Velvet didn't – she just lay there, bleeding onto the snow as the Dark Velvets trampled over her.

Hong Kong Velvet, blazing away with twin handguns, was hit, and went down. Even then, she levered herself up on one elbow and kept shooting until a Dark Velvet vaulted over the barricade and finished her off. I couldn't get there.

That was when I realized these Dark Velvets couldn't hurt me. I'd been hit a number of times, but I wasn't injured. I wasn't making enough of an impact with just the AK, so I took the sword from the hand of the fallen Samurai Velvet and charged out into the melee.

I worried that I couldn't bring myself to use a blade on a Velvet – even a Dark Velvet – but I didn't have any trouble. Maybe because they wore masks, or because underneath the numb shock I felt, I was upset. Or maybe because I could've done just about anything right then.

No matter how many I cut down, I couldn't stop what was happening. The Velvets rallied behind me, and all around the battle raged – and no matter what I did, it didn't matter. We couldn't win.

Poison Ivy Velvet and Harley Quinn Velvet were separated from the main force. They fought back to back, but a hand grenade ended their stand before I could reach them. I ran a Dark Velvet Officer through in time to see the Mist Velvet go down, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. For a moment Gandalf Velvet was forcing them back with a great wall of fire, but a drone roared overhead, and she fell in the following barrage of rockets. They didn't bother me, but the Indiana Jones Velvet at my side was killed by the shrapnel.

The boom of the Sniper Velvet's rifle had been absent for a few minutes, but I didn't want to look, because I knew what I'd see. I didn't want to see another Velvet die, but I didn't have a choice; it was happening all around me. And even if I'd closed my eyes, I still would've been able to hear the screams and the slaughter. Ever since the battle began, the sky had been darkening.

I could push forward, but the rest were being pushed back, and I couldn't protect them if we were separated. Against my every instinct, I let the onslaught push me as well, back toward the theater. Only the first waves had carried firearms; now it was a bloody close-quarters fight.

I fell to one knee, driving my sword into the snow. I couldn't get my breath – but I couldn't stop, either. In front of me, a Velvet I didn't recognize was bleeding out, her throat slashed. Her gun had fallen out of reach, and she didn't stop reaching for it until she was gone.

The attack pattern was changing. Something was coming. I pushed to my feet, jerking the sword free of the snow.

There was no longer a line. Just a pocket of resistance clustered around the theater entrance. Dark Velvets on all sides – but now they were parting down the middle.

I shouldn't have been surprised. An hour ago, there would have been a part of me that wanted to laugh – but that part was gone. The duality of this world was not lost on me. Bride Velvet in white had to have an opposite. This was it, and I should have seen it coming.

Darth Velvet was making straight for the entrance. My grip on the sword tightened. Maybe here I could make a difference. I didn't know if there was balance in this place, and if my being here, or what I was about to do was going to upset it.

The battle had ground to a halt. Obviously we had lost. I cast a quick glance back at the entrance. There weren't many Velvets left on either side. Though we'd been outnumbered, we'd worn them down – but it cost us. I spotted GI Velvet among the survivors. Darth Velvet had won. Maybe she was coming to seal the deal. I confidently moved to intercept her. If I'd known she was back there, maybe I could've done something sooner. Maybe it wouldn't have needed to come to this.

She deployed her lightsaber, but I didn't care. I'd cut her down like I had dozens, if not hundreds, of her troops. I raised my sword, and she raised hers. We both moved to strike, but I was jerked backward by my shirt. The red lightsaber sheared right through my sword, leaving me with just the hilt, and left a long burn across my chest. She must have just gotten me with the tip, or I'd have been in two pieces.

I'd been rescued by Jedi Velvet, who leapt over me to clash with Darth Velvet. How she'd known this was the one thing here that could hurt me, I didn't know. But I wasn't paying attention to them – I was staring down at the smoldering wound in my chest. It hurt a lot more than I was ready for. My invincibility had gone to my head.

I was only peripherally aware of the duel – but it didn't last. Jedi Velvet's head thudded to the ground. I looked up in horror as her body collapsed beside it, and the sky turned another shade darker. One moment, nothing. The next, chaos.

The battle resumed in earnest, but this time I wasn't participating – it was all I could do to stay conscious. Darth Velvet was coming my way – she'd obviously identified me as a greater threat than the others. The Dark Velvets were falling back, but it didn't seem to matter to this one. She raised the lightsaber over her head.

Battered and covered in wounds, GI Velvet slid between us, holding up her BAR – but Darth Velvet sliced it in half, then stabbed her, never breaking stride.

I dragged myself backward, but I couldn't get away, not even from Darth Velvet's deliberate walk. My back hit stone, and I realized I was up against the theater itself. I'd have liked to force myself to my feet and go out like a man – but I didn't have the strength.

A shot rang out, and Darth Velvet dropped her lightsaber to clutch at her shoulder. She looked back, then vanished. GI Velvet lay in the snow, her sidearm outstretched – but even as I watched, it slipped from her fingers, and she went still. The world darkened again, even more than when Jedi Velvet had gone down.

A few meters away, the last two Velvets were locked in struggle. The Light had her fingers around the other's throat, even as the Dark one fired a handgun repeatedly into her abdomen. They separated, and both fell.

There wasn't a sound. Dark Velvets who had fallen earlier were beginning to disintegrate. The others lay where they had fallen. There were bodies everywhere, but nothing moved, and I might've been in outer space for all the sound there was. The colorful lights of the marquee, more visible now in the newly fallen darkness, flashed over the scene that would haunt me to my grave.

The pain in my chest was growing more manageable by the second, but it was hard to muster the will to do anything more than just watch the snow fall on the bodies.

Movement caught my eye, and I looked up to see figures coming out of the dark. They were not, as I'd first thought, Dark Velvets. They were normal Velvets. Or unarmed Velvets, rather. They wore normal clothes – no costumes. Just street clothes.

I watched them begin to collect the bodies of the fallen Light Velvets. They were respectful, if not exactly reverent, as if they knew they had a big job – so many bodies to clear that if they took the time each one deserved, they'd never finish.

I almost got to my feet when they came for GI Velvet, but what was I going to do, stop them? No. I slid back to the ground and watched as they carried her away. One of them had stayed behind. She reached down and picked up the pistol GI Velvet had used to save me. With a look of determination, she jammed it into her waistband, then turned to go.

It was a long and heart-rending job, but as I sat watching, it seemed to fly by. Almost before I knew it, there was nothing left but churned up snow and blood. The Dark Velvets had all dissolved, and the Light ones had all been removed. For a moment I thought I saw Bride Velvet out in the distance, but when I looked again, she was gone.

I realized I was waiting for something – I just didn't know what. I guess I just thought that when it was over, something would happen. But nothing did.

I turned to look at the theater doors, still securely closed. None of them had gotten through. The defending force had been eliminated, but the Dark Velvets hadn't actually taken the theater. I wonder if that counted as a victory.

When it became clear to me that nothing was going to happen, I finally got to my feet. My chest still hurt, but I couldn't make myself care about it. With GI Velvet gone, I felt even more numb than I had before.

I stood outside the doors, wondering what to do. I supposed I'd have to make my way to the palace. Or maybe I could go to the dark castle and destroy it. I was ready for Darth Velvet, now. It didn't matter that her lightsaber could hurt me – I was ten times the fighter that any of these Velvets were. Now that I was ready for her, she wouldn't have a chance. Maybe I could even just shoot her.

But not now. I couldn't even face the thought. So I tried the door to the theater. To my surprise, it opened.

The interior of the theater looked… more or less like the interior of a theater. It wasn't the cleanest, though the damage to the outside of the building didn't seem to affect things inside. It looked a little old-fashioned, and architecturally and stylistically unfamiliar – like much of the city seemed to me. There was a concessions counter, and two Velvets behind it. Two doorways with curtains made – I was fairly sure, of actual velvet – the fabric – flanked it, no doubt leading into the theater itself. There was no ticket box.

I approached the counter warily. I was, in a way, pleased to see these two Velvets alive – though as I got closer, my enthusiasm waned. They were both dressed identically. I read the t-shirts they wore because I was in a peculiar state of mind, not because I gave a damn about her magnificent chest – because at the time, I didn't. They read:

VIKING F.K.

1899

STAVANGER

But I read those words as an afterthought. The most striking aspect of the shirt was the bloodstains – which were identical on both Velvets. There was a lot of blood. They were covered in it. Their hair was disheveled.

The one on the left looked catatonic. I could've poked her face with a finger and not gotten a reaction. The other looked glum, but alert. I stared at them for several long moments. But I had nothing to say, and I wasn't hungry – so I made my way around the counter and through the first doorway.

The theater was cavernous. I'd never seen a bigger room in my life. The screen was the size of a city park. It was deserted. I took a few exhausted steps down the aisle, then collapsed into a seat. The lights dimmed, and I woke in a clearing, surrounded by blood drinkers.


	48. Chapter 48

Freedom

Chapter 48

Only a little sunlight shone down through the canopy of leaves above, but it was enough to show me the dappled clearing we lay in. I didn't panic. I wanted to, but nothing was moving, and it was actually very peaceful, so I managed to hold it together. I felt ill, but I didn't think I could justify being sick at a time like this. I counted half a dozen fallen drinkers, and leapt to my feet, only to notice that Velvet had been lying beside me.

That sent a shock through me, and a deluge of memory. I forgot all about the drinkers and dropped to my knees. I didn't see any wounds on her. Her pulse was strong and steady, and her chest was rising and falling, but I wasn't looking, I was trying to shake her awake. I should've seen the next part coming.

I fell back in the leaves clutching my nose.

Velvet sat up, blinked, shook her sore hand, and rubbed her eyes.

"Not cool," I groaned.

"Don't surprise me like that," she yawned.

"You're okay," I said, watching her stretch.

"Why wouldn't I be? Oh, dear." She'd noticed all the drinkers – but her eyes quickly narrowed again. "You're such a showoff."

"What – you think I did this?"

"You didn't? What was I doing sleeping on the ground, anyway?"

The relief that she was safe was something that couldn't be described – but the situation around us couldn't be ignored, either. I gathered myself and got up.

"I don't know," I said, looking down at the nearest drinker. It was definitely dead – it wasn't playing a cruel joke on us or anything. I carefully scanned our surroundings – but I didn't sense any danger. Velvet got to her feet, brushed the leaves from her fatigues, and picked up her MPL. She looked around, leaned the gun on her shoulder, and shifted her weight to one hip, shrugging. "This is odd," she said, shaking her head.

Understatement. I patted myself down. Everything was still there. I remembered the dream – but I didn't remember what had come before. We were in the Forest – and we were looking for someone. I remembered that much. The Biker was at Kevorich. So was Russet, and Tyrian. And Sagaris. The Merc was off doing something – getting Velvet's stashes. I shook my head again. Reality felt good. Actually, it didn't – I was stiff and thirsty, and I'd just been punched in the nose, which was still tender.

I took a drink from my canteen. "They've all had their throats cut," Velvet noted, crouching beside one of the bodies. She gave me a suspicious look. "You really didn't do it?"

"I totally didn't," I said.

"And you just woke up too?"

"Yeah."

She adjusted her beret and stood up, hands on her hips. "Then we both just decided to take a nap?"

"That's what it looks like."

"I've heard of anomalies that can do that," she said, turning to look around again. "And drinkers to capitalize on it? Did someone do us a favor?"

"I think they must have."

"Someone who could kill six drinkers without using a gun?"

I didn't say anything, but someone did spring to mind. Though the thought of him having been so close to us was positively eerie. And why would he protect us if we'd stumbled into an anomaly? I'd thought the dream I'd had was insane – was this really any better?

"We should get out of here," Velvet said.

"Yeah."

She got out her PDA, took her bearings, and then looked at her compass. "I miss having satellite coverage," she sighed.

"Where are we?"

"I'm not entirely sure." She frowned. "But we can't be far from the eastern edge. I don't think we got very far before we got caught in this. I suppose I took the Forest lightly."

"Should we back off?"

"And risk the same anomaly again? I think not. We go deeper." She rubbed her eyes again. "Can't get over that dream."

I'd moved ahead of her, because if we were going to walk into another anomaly like that – I mean, it had to have taken us by surprise, right – I wanted to be in front. But now I stopped and looked back. "Dream?"

She nodded. "Longest, strangest – best dream I've ever had." She gave me a funny look.

"What was it like?"

Velvet stopped and looked thoughtful. She crossed her arms. "There was this great football stadium, and everyone was you."

"Me?"

"Yeah – I can't explain it. And there was a game on, and it was one of the best I've seen."

My head swam. Me? Football? "Wait – you mean soccer?"

"What?"

She did mean soccer. These grubby uncultured Europeans – I'd never get used to them. So I had seen a city full of Velvets, and she had seen a stadium full of Mists.

"I don't know what you Americans call it," she saying.

"And it was fun – wait, I'm Canadian, dammit – I mean Chinese – that's not the point – you said you actually liked the dream?"

"Of course. I love football. And I felt at ease there." She looked down at her hands. "Like I could touch people. I wasn't afraid." She looked up sharply, eyes narrowed. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Hey – if it was a bunch of mes around, who were you touching?" I asked, spreading my arms. "It's okay – I'm a handsome devil. I know."

She held up her fist.

"Okay – okay, look – I'm asking seriously. There wasn't anything bad or scary going on in there?"

She gave me another one of those funny looks, then shrugged. "Not really. The game was maybe a little rough, but everyone was playing by the rules. The mascots."

"What?"

"There were people in big, black costumes shaped like a hand. Like foam rubber. Anyway, they were creepy. Not as creepy as having a dream about you, but creepy."

"Hey – I am not creepy."

"What do you mean you're not creepy? You're like half dumb kid, half total psycho!"

"Well – well, you're like half cute chick, half total psycho!"

"Shut up, or I'll go full psycho."

"How is that fair?"

"I'm not psycho, you're psycho – I'm not the one who was killing people with a hammer."

"You punched me in the face for waking you up!"

"You startled me!"

I think we both realized at the same time that shouting at each other in the middle of the Red Forest wasn't the best idea. Velvet turned away huffily and folded her arms. I stared at her back for a moment, then groaned.

I tried to get her to let me take the lead, but she wasn't having any of it. She marched off, and all I could do was follow. I kept careful watch for danger, but the Forest was still and quiet. We seemed to be past the dark and the decay of the outer rim. It still didn't look normal, but it seemed less sinister than it had before.

But I wasn't really thinking about the forest, I was thinking about what Velvet had told me. She'd dreamed about me. I'd dreamed about her. For me, it had been a miserable and traumatic battlefield. For her, it had been a soccer game.

Theories were beginning to form. They were ridiculous, impossible. But I was thinking them anyway. How else could I explain it? It still didn't explain everything, I couldn't didn't have the prerequisite knowledge to attach the right meaning to every little thing I'd seen – but it was all coming together. If Velvet's mental landscape was a bloody battlefield and mine was a rough soccer game – then – then what?

Velvet didn't seem to be thinking too hard about it. Maybe she took these kinds of things for granted. She'd been in the Zone a lot longer than I had. Hadn't she said it was something like ten years? I'd never said it aloud, but I'd never stopped wondering what could have brought a woman like her here. And what could have kept her here for this long?

But the memories were coming back. I couldn't stop them. When I'd woken, it had been a jumbled mess. Now things were falling into place. I could see Velvets dying by the dozen, and hear their screams. I wanted to forget.

I remembered more than the horror of the battle. I remembered the theater, and what I'd seen inside. It had been clear in the dream, but now it was just a montage of sights and sounds. Unfamiliar architecture. Silhouettes. A shattering impact. Blonde hair. A bloody letter.

I knew what no one else did. I knew because I'd seen it in her own mind. I knew why she was here. I knew why she'd walked out her life, and I knew why she'd come here instead of somewhere else. I understood everything.


	49. Chapter 49

Freedom

Chapter 49

We walked for a full hour after we woke and took our bearings following the bizarre encounter with what had to be some kind of anomaly. I hadn't shared my theory about how it had affected us with Velvet; nor had I shared my side of things. She hadn't asked.

We saw a lot of things in the Forest. Spiderwebs stretched between trees, very Tolkien, beautiful places where small pools had formed, and we crossed them by jumping from rock to rock. Great trees that towered like California redwoods.

At no time was there any sign of people. No stray casings on the ground, no bodies, no remnants of campfires, nothing. Either barely anyone ever came to these parts of the Forest, or there was some kind of janitorial service.

And yet Velvet seemed to know where to go, though I was absolutely convinced she'd never been here before. There was no way for her to truly orientate herself – we had a compass, but without knowing where we were, it could only do us so much good. With GPS offline, we were lost. But she seemed to have a destination. We held up a particularly thick tangle of trees, and she considered for a moment, then marched off north.

"How do you know where we're going?"

She pointed down. "The slope."

"We're going downhill."

Velvet nodded. "To the valley."

"Don't tell me we're searching for the Hermit," I joked.

"We are."

I stopped. Everyone knows the Hermit's a myth. Actually, I'd figured the valley was a myth, too. You know – you've heard of it. The Valley in the Forest, where the Hermit lives, who's been there since… okay, I don't remember, but it's a really long time. Anyway, the campfire story is that the Valley's so deep in the Forest that no one ever goes in there. Or that no one ever comes back from trying. Which, now that I think about it, is possible, considering the nature of that anomaly – if someone hadn't been looking out for us, those drinkers would've drained us.

That was why the mystique of the Forest was so hard to buy into – it doesn't seem like there are any dangers that enough men and guns can't handle. But an anomaly? That could almost make the stories true. If this Valley existed – and Velvet obviously believed that it did – then if it were guarded by something like the Mind Swap Anomaly, it was easy to believe that no one had ever come back. It might also explain why the Hermit never left.

"You're serious."

"I'm serious."

So for such a big deal, such a titanic discovery, we found it pretty easily. We didn't even have to shoot anything. It's my honest belief that it was the Mind Swap Anomaly, and the nest of blood drinkers that preyed on people who fell victim to it, that cut off the Valley from the rest of the forest. If that mysterious stranger hadn't saved us, we would've been finished. Now we were inside the perimeter. I wouldn't call it safe, but with the anomaly behind us, it didn't seem like a deathtrap. That was my thinking. There was only one problem. If we'd fallen to the anomaly, why hadn't our benefactor, the guy who'd protected us from the drinkers? He must have entered its radius – was it because he was alone, and there was no one for him to swap with? But if being alone was enough to get you through the anomaly, surely loners would have reached the Valley – no, not necessarily – there was obviously a big nest of drinkers, and a stalker alone can only protect himself so much.

We were poised at the crest of a steep slope. This was the Valley. No doubt. Too bad we couldn't see it. There was such thick fog down there that all that was visible was the tree line around us, and the tops of the trees below. Above, the sky had turned gray.

"We have to go down there? Into that?"

"Are you a stalker or what?"

"Do you have a death wish or what?"

"Me?" Velvet laughed, and started down the slope. "You don't know the half of it." By the end of that sentence, I'd lost track of her completely. I was still standing there, I didn't follow – because I realized that it was simple. Yes, she did have a death wish. An active one. I knew why. And asking her that outright, even in jest, hadn't been very sensitive.

At least she had a thick skin about it. It wouldn't have been a stalker thing to do to apologize, so I didn't. I just plunged after her into the fog.

"Stay close," I snapped.

"You want to hold hands?"

"Can we?"

"No."

I knew about that too, though I wished that I didn't. I took a couple of deep breaths, checked my 553, and fell in beside her. I couldn't see anything at all.

"Just keep going down," Velvet said, reading my mind.

I don't know how long we walked in the fog. It made me nervous. Trees and shapes would come out of nowhere. The fog made you see things that weren't there, shapes and movement, not good when you're already on edge.

"We're getting close," Velvet said. A sudden shape bloomed ahead, a pillar of stone. It was ancient and cracked, overgrown with vines, and leaning somewhat. It looked like to me like something from ancient Greece or something, not that I'm an expert. Velvet paused, holding aside her MPL to reach out and lay her hand on its surface. "How many stalkers do you think have laid eyes on this?" she wondered aloud.

Not very many. I'm serious. I don't know why I felt that way, but I did. There was a sense of isolation, of great age – an intangible feeling that few people had ever been among these enormous trees. The Zone, as such, has only existed for half a century – or so the world believes. And yet, here it felt so much older.

I don't know if it was just me, or my hand, or the way that the anomaly had opened my mind, or maybe even the artifacts in my pocket – but it didn't seem at all strange. The Zone toys and changes what we perceive as reality. Shrodinger would've loved it here.

The place we were, was it really on any map? Were we even still in the Zone? Who could know? I took out my PDA, but the screen was dead. This place was protected. Loners could not enter, and neither could groups or pairs – without someone to intervene on their behalf. Now Velvet and I didn't have to watch out for anomalies, we were the anomalies. Humans weren't supposed to be here.

The trees had thinned out, and the ground we walked on was clear and open. That was impossible; from above, we had seen a canopy of unbroken treetops. Neither of us said anything, though I knew Velvet could not have failed to notice.

The Mind Swap Anomaly formed a ring around this valley, much liked the supposed barrier that kept stalkers from the Center. We had woken inside that ring. Before coming here, I'd scoffed at the notion that the Zone was sentient or mystical, like stalkers gossip about around the fire at night. Not anymore. My respect for the mystic and unknown was growing. My travels in the caverns deep beneath the Zone had opened my eyes and my mind to things I'd never dreamed of. To see the psyche of another person from the inside – it's not something that can be manifested or described. Or forgotten. What I'd seen in Velvet's mind was not literal. It was a representation, an elaborate metaphor. I felt like if I could understand what it all meant – then everything would change.

We walked on, and suddenly what I felt beneath my feet was no longer grass "Look down," I said to Velvet. She stopped. Color seemed to have faded from our world. The gray fog. The murky ground. Even we ourselves had been reduced to dark silhouettes.

We stood on a gigantic cog, a gargantuan gear that was buried in the soil, bigger than anything I had ever seen.

I stepped back, onto the grass, which was getting taller as we moved in, now as high as Velvet's knees. We kept moving forward. There was a pedestal on a block of marble, a two-toned pistol resting on it. We didn't touch it, though Velvet's eyes lingered on it, and she even turned to look back as we moved on, gazing at it until it was lost in the fog.

The ground was flat here. There was no more incline to guide us – yet I doubted we were going the wrong way. The next shape to appear was familiar. I stopped, as did Velvet. We both stared at it for several long moments. It was a kiosk. Posten Norge.

Velvet started to turn, but I beat her to it. Sure enough, the grass beneath our feet had turned to asphalt, and behind us stood the traffic signal.

"Don't," I said, stopping her. She didn't listen, though. I grabbed her and covered her eyes. She held onto me without protest. A crumpled, bloody letter was trapped beneath my foot. Velvet's shoulders were shaking. I put my arms around her. Because I knew – because I'd seen, firsthand, everything that had led to this, I didn't need to think about what could hit her so hard that she would forego her hatred for closeness and let herself be held. I knew. I didn't have to ask.

The scene was gone, and we were standing in grass again. Velvet pulled free of me and moved away, keeping her back turned. I stared helplessly at her narrow shoulders, and the fog alone couldn't completely muffle her sobs. I waited. There was nothing but the fog around us now. This place had nothing to show me, and that was the difference between us.

I could tell, even through the haze, that Velvet was wiping her eyes. I knelt quickly to pick up the letter, which was still there. I didn't stare at the dark stains on the envelope, I just tucked it away and straightened as she turned back to me, pistol in raised. There was enough murder in her eyes to make what I'd done in that hallway look like a playful scuffle. Her hand was trembling.

She started to speak, but I didn't recognize the words. She was speaking Norwegian. She seemed to catch herself, and changed back to English. "How do you know?"

I didn't move. What could I say? "I saw."

After what felt like a long time, she lowered the gun and turned away again. There was no time for anything else, because an incredible wail sounded through the fog, not something that could be described.

I heard thudding footsteps, and I knocked Velvet out of the way just as the Blood Demon burst from the fog. I narrowly avoided his swipe, and rolled to my feet. Velvet leapt up and put her MPL to her shoulder. She wasn't crying now. She leaned in, squinting at the fog.

Back to back, neither of us made a sound. I readied my carbine. The fog swirled and swam, showing me more demons that I could count, but there was only one. Or was there? My right hand was suddenly on fire.

"Run," I said, but even as I said it, the Demon came again. I put up the 553 to block his swing, but the creature just smashed it aside, destroying it thoroughly. I fell back, but scrambled out of the way and ran for it.

Shapes came out of the fog, a Ferris Wheel, a merry-go-round. Tombstones. A platform lined with gallows. I dodged through, rolling beneath a railing, vaulting a concrete barrier, and running into a miniature city, where the streets were a meter across, and the buildings were as tall as I was. I could hear the Demon bulling through it behind me.

Velvet appeared. She opened fire with her MPL, but the bullets had little effect on the monster. It turned in her direction, but I couldn't have that. I skidded to a stop, turned, and charged back toward it. She shouted something, but I wasn't listening. The thing turned back and swung at me, and all I could do was drop and skid underneath. Velvet rushed in, but one blow sent her crashing through buildings.

The demon towered over us and the buildings both. A hand the size of manhole cover held me to the ground. I got the Desert Eagle out of its holster and took aim. The Demon's head was as enormous, and with the tendrils around its mouth spread, it looked too big to fight. Gray scales, bony protrusions. Two small, but intensely red eyes. The tendrils spread wider. I took aim, but I could tell the head was too well armored. There was no time. I jerked the gun down and fired into the creature's knee as many times as I could pull the trigger.

It reeled back, letting out another ear-piercing scream that seemed to shake the ground. The huge hand opened, and I fell to the ground, landing hard enough to see stars. When I sat up, the Demon had disappeared into the fog, though I could hear it moving away. The sounds were fading. I fought to my feet and hurried to Velvet, who was lying in the wreckage of several downtown buildings.

Groaning, she sat up, and I helped her to her feet. Even as I did so, the city was gone. Before us stood a small cottage. There was smoke coming from the chimney, and the windows glowed yellow.


	50. Chapter 50

Freedom

Chapter 50

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"This what we're looking for?"

"Probably." Velvet picked up her MPL and turned around, eying the fog. She was thinking more clearly than I was. Weapons ready, we backed toward the cottage – but the Demon had gone. Half a dozen large bullets to the knee had convinced it to bother someone else. At least for now. Not that there was anyone else out here.

Without looking, Velvet reached over her shoulder and knocked on the door. We didn't have to wait long until it was opened.

The man inside was older than both of us, much older. He was well muscled, but his beard was touched with gray and white. He wore green fatigue pants and a black t-shirt. His expression was one of surprise, but not displeasure.

"Come inside," he said in Russian, after only a short pause. He said something else that I didn't catch, but I later learned it was this: "It is not safe out there."

We didn't have to be asked twice. Velvet and I went in, and he closed the door firmly behind us, but did not lock it.

The cottage was a single room. There was a nice flame in the fireplace, and the space was very neat. There was a table of technical-looking stuff, a table of food and food preparation materials, a cot, another table, and four chairs.

Once we were inside, he stared at us, one corner of his mouth curved in a smile. "A woman," he said, in Russian. "And an oriental stalker." His smile widened. "Now I have seen everything." He finally switched to English. It was accented, but functional. "Sit down." He gestured to the table. I couldn't help but notice that he had no weapon, and that there were none in view.

"It may not be safe," I said, glancing out the window. "There's a creature out there – too much for us to handle."

"You are safe here."

Don't ask me why, but I believed him. He pulled out a chair for Velvet, and I joined her at the table.

"Coffee?"

"Please," Velvet said, after a brief hesitation. She set down her MPL, and laid down her pack. I did the same, but took the time to reload first.

The Hermit was pouring coffee. It smelled incredible. Velvet and I both watched him in silence. He brought back three mugs. "I have no sugar," he apologized.

"It's fine." Velvet took the mug he offered and stared at it with an expression I'd never seen before. A very faraway look. Later I would learn that it had been over three months since she'd had coffee to drink, and that she was, after all that had happened, feeling a little overcome.

"You are the first guests I have had in," he began, but trailed off. "…some time," he said finally. "You, young lady, I know." He held up a photograph. "I have heard of you. But you – you, young man, are new to me."

"Mist." I offered my hand, and he shook it warmly.

"My name is Grigor. What brings you here, Commander?"

"Fedir is dead."

"How?"

"Before the Incursion, when Duty and the Military were collaborating, they assassinated several Freedom officers so that we would not be able to respond as strongly when they attacked. He was killed in his sleep."

Grigor nodded. "In keeping, I think, with how my brother expected to die. Tell me, Commander, was he a good leader?"

"The best."

"And you came to tell me this?"

"No. I came to beg for your help. Freedom is destroyed."

"And you wish to rebuild it?"

"I will rebuild it."

"You have an excellent plan, I expect."

"I do."

"Will you tell me?"

"Yes."

"Go on." He smiled at her.

"Duty will destroy anything it perceives as a threat. The old way of doing things is gone. Subterfuge is the only way."

"Correct."

I took a drink of coffee. It was bitter, but nice and hot, which was good after the chill of the fog. I knew better than to even think about speaking. I was not a participant in this discussion. I was just amazed at how Velvet had rallied. I knew she was barely keeping herself together, but right now – when it counted – she could do what she had to.

"I have secured an exchange route with the outside. I am prepared to offer stalkers more than double what Kevorich is paying."

So that was Velvet's silver bullet. That was what made her think she could rebuild Freedom, even in the face of all the opposition. It was brilliant, really. She had a way to fence artifacts that would pay more than what Kevorich was paying – every hunter in the Zone would come to her, begging to sell to her. She would make friends by the score. And it wouldn't be building a faction, per say – at least not at first. It would just be a business. Duty could hardly get bent out of shape over that. By the time they realized what she was doing… it would be too late. She would be too big. Freedom would be well on its way back.

"Then you will attract stalkers not to Freedom, but to yourself. In doing this you will not make an enemy of Duty, but what of Kevorich?"

"If it has to be one or the other, I'll fight Kevorich."

"And when will you reveal your identity?"

"When the time is right."

Grigor smiled. "Yes. Your generosity and charisma will bring you great strength, I have no doubt of that. But what will you build?"

"Freedom, like it was before, stone for stone – so much as the Zone will allow. Nothing stays the same forever."

I felt like this was a quiz Velvet had spent some time preparing for.

"Indeed. And you would have me as your puppet. Your figurehead, to pose as my late twin, because you fear no one will rally behind you. No one will follow a woman."

"That's right."

He nodded, and looked down at his coffee for a moment, then leaned back and took a drink. "Perhaps that is true."

"If I thought you'd be interested in leading – I would follow you without hesitation," Velvet said.

"Then you already know I will not."

"I suspected."

"When my brother told you where to find me, did he also tell you why I never returned?"

"Yes."

"Mm." He took another drink. "Then you know of my work."

"Vaguely."

"Why do you wish to rebuild Freedom? Why not create something for yourself? Why not change with the changing Zone?"

"Because Freedom is not necessitated by the Zone. The Zone changes. We don't. Freedom is balance."

"Balance against Duty, you mean."

"Yes."

"Wrong. Duty is nothing. It is what Duty stands for that my brother fought against." Grigor leaned forward, looking deadly serious. "What is the Zone?"

Velvet shook her head. "A place where anything is possible."

"It is the unknown. Man has been pursuing the unknown since the dawn of time. My brother, and Freedom, his creation, protect the infinite and undeniable right and dignity of man to pursue the unknown however he sees fit. He did not fight Duty's regulation. He did not dispute Duty's belief that the advance of the Zone must be slowed to protect those unprepared for it. He did not advocate freedom so that the unscrupulous and evil could do as they wished with impunity – but a place with no sovereignty, the last bastion of the unknown for mankind can have no laws. This permits the wrongs of evil men, but it is a sacrifice that must be made, because with man there can be no perfection. The Zone is our past and our present and our future. It cannot be defined or ruled, it cannot be owned, and there is a destiny here for every man and for every woman. Those who would deny those men and women that destiny must be fought and beaten. The Zone and all its wonders – and dangers – cannot be restricted in any way. That is what my brother believed, and what you must believe if you are to succeed."

"I do. And I will leave the Zone at the end of this year, regardless of what happens. I want no power for myself."

"Then I will help you. I will leave this place and take a new one at the head of Freedom, where I will follow you until you choose a successor."

"Thank you."

He smiled. "But only when my conditions are met."

The tension that had been building left the air, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. I shook my head, took a drink of coffee, and looked at Grigor in wonder. He'd really had me in thrall there.

"I'm listening," Velvet said.

"The key to your success will indeed be the – the business plan, which you intend to use to establish your initial following. I must be permitted access to every artifact that passes through your hands, before you pass them to your contact. Those which demand my study will not be sold. Be assured, the vast majority of them will be of no interest to me – this condition will affect your revenue stream only minimally."

"Agreed."

"Who controls the facilities at Yantar?"

Velvet blinked, then frowned, rubbing her chin. "I honestly don't know," she said, looking troubled. "The military took it back during the Incursion, but they've all pulled out. For all we know, there might not be anyone there."

"You will re-take Yantar as soon as it is feasible, and it will become Freedom's base of operations. I require the facilities there to continue my work."

Velvet took a deep breath, then nodded. "Done. The location is sound and defendable, and I'll have clear routes to the west for supplies and exports. I accept."

"Then there is only one more thing I require from you."

"Anything."

"A show of… intent. Of good faith. I require that you make clear your determination on this matter."

"How?"

"There is something my brother had that you do not."

Velvet stiffened at that. I saw her swallow. "Is it necessary?"

"You are afraid? Why?"

"I am not afraid."

"Yes, you are. But as a leader you are right to lie. Will you prove your commitment?"

She was breathing more quickly now. Her jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Then let us consummate our agreement."

They both got to their feet. I got up too. "Wait a minute," I cut in. "What are you talking about – why are you afraid?" Grigor reached out a hand, but I had the Desert Eagle out and pointed at him in a heartbeat. I pulled back the hammer. "If you want to hurt her – you are dead."

He returned my stare, very coolly. "This is the most important place in this world, boy. A man – or woman – does not alter the course of its history lightly."

Velvet reached out and pushed the gun down. Her eyes were wide – terrified – but she shook her head at me.

I watched helplessly as she walked to the hearth. Grigor went to his other table, taking out a small metal box. Velvet undid the top of her fatigues and left it fall. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and threw it aside. She reached back and unfastened her brassiere, pulling it off as well. It joined the garments on the floor, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on the mantle.

Grigor crossed the room with a bottle of ink and a needle. He gazed at her exposed back for a moment, then he began. I watched him holding the needle in the flame. I watched him lift Velvet's blonde hair over her shoulder, brush away a few strands, and go to work.

I stood and watched her knuckles grow whiter with every passing second. I saw her tremble, and listened to her gasp and whimper. It took time. Seconds turned to hours. And every hour for me was a lifetime for her. Perspiration dripped from her, but Grigor never stopped, and never slowed down. When he ran out of ink, he just opened another bottle. He didn't stop when he punctured her too deeply, and he didn't stop when he made a mistake. Maybe that was for the best.

I never moved from where I stood by the table, where I'd risen from my chair. I never stopped looking. Maybe I never even blinked.

"Did you make it?" The Morton Stalker asked. I didn't even turn to look at him.

"Make what?"

"To the other side of that gap you were trying to jump."

"Yeah," I said without hesitation, my eyes fixed on Velvet. When I turned to look, he was gone. I wasn't surprised. A part of me had known what he was – and what he wasn't – all along. I opened and closed my right hand a couple of times, but I just didn't care.

When it was finally over, Grigor stepped back, face grim. I rushed forward and caught Velvet just in time. She didn't protest, because she was passed out, limp in my arms. I sank to the floor, pulling her close and hugging her tightly. I'm not a big man, but that night she felt very small.

I looked up at Grigor, who was returning his tattooing tools to their box. He had no concept of what he'd done, what this had been to her. He probably thought this was a sign of cowardice, of weakness. I hoped I wasn't giving him enough credit.

So ended my first week in the Zone.

Firelight danced on Velvet's bare back, slick and glistening with sweat. It flickered over the letters printed in stark black on her perfect skin.

FREEDOM

End

Author's Note – great job making it to the end - that's it for this arc, but the madness continues, inside the Zone and out. You know the drill – stop by pseudozone at blogspot dot com for the latest – and thanks for reading. Feel free to leave some feedback - I love to hear what folks think of the story.

Wish


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